Monday, 20 October 2008


by Peter Steele

Seeing you go
Where the dead are bound, and having no resource
To twist those timbers out of their lethal course,
I want at least to know

What I can say
Now that the boasts have blown away and even
The cursing has grown faint, while the pall of heaven
Abolishes the day.

I was never wise
In word or silence, never understood
The killer in my members, thought of good
At what one might devise

From scraps of evil.
How can I learn a way for me or mine
To stand beside you? Vinegar, not wine,
Is all we give you still.

Among the dice
And the dirt, with more of shame than love to show,
All that will come to heart is 'Do not go
Alone to Paradise.'

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