Pay attention Fools,
We can’t be much more than we are.
I think, therefore I am confused.
This is why we dance.
Throw your roses at my feet,
That I might gather them for the Queen.
Present your empty glasses,
That I might fill them with my blood.
As often as you drink, do so in remembrance of me.
Truth is, I am poison.
Your indulgences will be the death of you.
Óskmey can you hear us when we sing;
Have you come for the harvest?
There is work to be had in the fields for a reaper.
The sleeping may yet survive the heat;
Mother may they starve in the winter.
We fools will cast our seeds of doubt,
And in the fire we all will dance.
Pour the King another glass;
You four in the corner, keep those strings singing.
No one is listening,
But everyone can hear the screams.
The Queen is displeased.
CMH
-
awildhappiness liked this
-
aenorlemusae reblogged this from kawanah
-
fivesandsevens liked this
-
fivesandsevens reblogged this from kawanah
-
makemygrave liked this
-
kawanah posted this
