Skin so pale its almost translucent
Her body so frail she might just have been an illusion
As black as a raven, it be her hair
My love, my dear lady ever so fair
I want to taste her, eat her up whole
Yet all she wants from me, it be my soul
Death is my fairest of ladies name
The sickle she carries, be her claim to fame
My time, it has now abruptly come to an end
I cant hide no more, I just cant pretend
I have long sensed her presence and wondered about this very day
When my time arrives, what is…
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Posted on May 31, 2008 at 4:41am —
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your friend in satan mike