Many years has she lived, A stranger to the life that she leads The promise of an unfinished melody Would let her make peace With this stranger that lives her life. There’s a certain charm to unfinished things… But an unfinished she? Grim is the time that he reaps his crop Hacking his way through cardboard props He feeds on misery, this nocturnal creature Feasts on carnage and tattered flesh She met him in an enchanted forest Gorging on carcass and drinking elixir The mournful moon for a while Shimmered on his entangled locks, Mesmerized she stood there, And reached out for her flute, And through the notes that followed, They rode the sinusoidal waves, For the times she stopped, The demon awoke, And her tired lips carved new notes, And the winds that followed Rustled through his locks And lulled him to sleep, The nights grow longer day by day, An eternity of sleepless nights, Her lips bled while she played, Through crimson blood they sailed, And a lifetime of blissful sleep she traded, For finding the note to her unfinished melody.
