Here I swing, from a rope
tied to the steeple of forgotten hope.
Upon which perches a silver crow,
crying iron tears upon the stoae
I do not know to where I send
This poor message to rend
But only fear that it might end
In absent eternity
This place was made for none like me
Forgotten people where'er they be
No one knows whos god sits on
The ebony throne which life is drawn
I do not know to where I send
This poor message to rend
But only fear that it might end
In absent eternity
Here in death I see no light
No promise kept into the night
I fear now that I might be lost
Forgotten in a realm of frost
I do not know to where I send
This poor message to rend
But only fear that it might end
In absent eternity
Fear futures you do not know
No oaths are sacred down below
So hear my call and turn away
Be it, angel, demon, spirit or fae
I do not know to where I send
This poor message to rend
But only fear that it might end
In absent eternity
So here I hang, from a cord
tied to a temple of an absent lord
Upon which cries a shining bird
A final message, hope to be heard