Lines on pages
     Indented desires wrapped in ancient dreams
Death marching up to my wooden door

I am hiding, under a glass stained floor
     A raven plays the harp
The orchestra knows is B sharp

My hair rented and torn
     Life you see forlorn
Lines dancing on pages

Facades weary and paint thin
    A whiter shade of pale so dim
Candlelight still shines from within

Tongues embrace, passion reflected in face
     Indented ******* fall upon the plate
Of hunger, of desire, some may say even fate