So I walked in a chilly no mans land
My mind lost across sulphurous dreamscapes
After pain a formal feeling comes
Nerves sits as statues on ancient tombs
Feet mechanical go round
Of ground, of air of ought
A wooden way regards less grown
A quartz rest like a stone
This is the hour of lead
Then I saw a spot of bonewhite light
And in fog it's lunar conundrums
I saw an oak, twisted giant of these lands
By its terrified arms dangled 3 hanged men
They are already half unstrung
And black as burnt meat
And around a vinegary fume of death
Vats clung to them, but one started talkin':
"Sorry about this, if the first trace you need
comes to you afloat in this carrion sea,
but if my tongue now is black a slug
my words are truthful like a tube made in lead.
In this land riddled with ghost
with her sad granite grin,
rules a lady staring from her hood of bone.
She rise out the ash and eats men like the air,
can you hear the blood droppin' down of
her throne?
Open your eyes, the awful truth you'll find
is yet hidden in the twist of your brain.
So let rise your obscured feminine side
and truth rise toward you day after day
like a terrible fish"
Then I felt a cleaving in my mind
As if my brain had split
I tried to match it - seam by seam
But could not make them fit
The thought, I strove to join
Unto the thoughts before -
But the sequence raveled out of sound
Like balls upon a floor

I'm drived insane!

What damn'd inn is this
Where for the night peculiar traveler comes?
Who is the landlord and where are the maids?
Behold, the curious rooms!
La venta quemada!

No ruddy fires on the heart,
no brimming tankards flow!

Necromancer! Landlord!
Who are these below?

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