When cries for innocence
Echos in the minds of the ignorant
And the dead lay upon the ground
How often do you trip and fall
When salvation is corrupted
What is truely justified-
The end or the mean
In a perfect world
Does it matter that a memory
Becomes a picture then fades
Or is it up to the decivers eye
When the vallents fight for good
And evil still bleeds them
Do their demise go in vain
And when war becomes art
Who then do we creit and praise
Though the heart beats
Life drains from the body
Into the chaklesof darkness
Bound to the source where it thrived
tales of mystery, horror and suspense