Red Muck – By: D.e.e.L

Singing a melody of past wishes
Only throbs the pipes to whisper less clearly
As the dying fingers try to keep tempo
And the lights are dimming in the crowded beating room
The walls suck in and push out as the waves of hell rush through
And out again into the rest of the living succubus thriving heart
Time and sorrows diminished only for the sake of reenacting them for the thrice
And the moon falls weak on the outside of the soul and the song reaches its end and the howls become real and fading
That is when the melody of the past falls to the inevitable end of the future
The song ends and nobody is there to shout for an encore

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