Hollow is the path of hallows

Ghostly pasts mark failed endeavors

Fearsome is the path for the forseers

Walking through yet know no change

Darker halves mark season change

When lover's gaze turns cold

The drunken haze in winter days

Gapes muddy ways for preplexed boys

Pagans pride their rattled necks

Adorned in guillotine of chord

Slitting throats on hill of wards

Not so long ago

Minds decay in jar filled churches

Prayers formed in formalin

Passed saints used to roam among us

Now crackle joints in Roman crypts

Humans knead in tombstone allys

Bodies rolled in autumn leaves

Heed for tops of weeping willows

And watch the fall of heaven's seers