old english
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Are thy afraid of the darkness upon us?
She reaches into thy soul
And oh, what pain she moves us to.
I cannot help thee
No matter how hard ye plea,
For she has a hold of me as well.
The sun dost pass through the sky in the blink of an eye;
‘Tis but the foreshadow of the cometh of my foe.
If only it would stay a bit longer,
My sorrows might there be forgotten;
Falling to the earth.
Blood spilling.
Screams chilling.
Utterly our ancestors a-screaming.
