the wake

• (bkz: cemetary)
  (bkz: sundown)
  
  tragedy has spoken
  the wolves all gather around
  with sharpen teeth and a guilty yellow stare
  they wish me on my way
  
  so cold inside this shell
  give me to the earth
  
  the dreams that i deserted
  the passion i would not release
  the path i left untreaded
  the mask that i refused to wear
  existance left unnoticed
  desire in my bones so dry
  and silence in the virtue
  all so quiet - all so still
  
  i can feel them watching
  feel the seconds die
  can hear them laughing from above
  they wish me on my way