| V. Zaitsev |
| Copyright 2007 Red Pulp Underground |
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Red Pulp Underground
| No Title Cobalt sky, blue mixed grey Sample of sorrow, heaven’s grief Lend me thy ears; hear me speak To you my grief, gifted What is it to say Words, empty words Shallow, so shallow Can not drown in this I could sing for you A virtuoso of pain Shrill trill of a flute Vibrato, my heart Wrath upon strings, teach them To scream and sing, to pull On the bindings of soul The workings of heart Blissful inferno, smoke begets Truth and truth, further forever Burn away the memories Roast to crimson cinders Why then, this hapless sinner Chosen crowned among peers What hand dealt his fate His cards, emptiest of all So I struggle, complete Unable to see Dark clouds roll in Raindrop whispers Reached out, pale hands Comforting, soft, warm Never to feel them Simple joys doth die Rippling madness dry Crackle, cackle, of bone I cannot forget you I will not forget you Left me to moan Eyes wide, dark Dreams haunting Selfish, selfish Perhaps, as shadow rolls Dreamy spirals assume I shall join you, flying On cinder wings Bold, that you would Step up, run down Eyes aflame, cold To the touch Brilliant sky, icy gem Spill, sing, serve Our token grief Our open eyes In sorrow, grief Dream eternal In sorrow, grief Let rain pour November 2007 |