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■ The oak
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Tired of watching the heart of a sinner
Covered in silk yet buried in pain, Crossing it's conscience as it gets thinner, Waiting for God to wash me with rain; Bleeding my venom, marking the path, Leading her quiet remains to the cross; Virgin on the way to the altar of wrath Seducing nothingness, the unknown loss; Silver glance on an ebony building reveals The voice of one who can not speak, Giving me back what the world steals, Holding her life line in his beak; Take a side way through the forest following the wings of Hell, For you know as well as me, on this Earth there is one Heaven, Leaves and roses covered trail, Hope of raven...
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