The Melancholy Spirit

(album: Pale Folklore - 1999)

It was in this haunted place under a moonless cloak of ebony
I was drawn to the glow of a young spiritess weeping in the woods

The blackest ravens and ice-veiled boughs
Have spoken of you, goddess of these bleak woods
I yearn for your embrace, spiritess of the melancholia
Show me, again, your sweet face
Enchant me with your rich, cinder burnt ether
Lure me into your arms and bless unto me eternal death

She had spoken to the dawn
Her words wisped in tongues of the wind

And then silence...
Pale clouds betrothed the dawn
Black rain fell
The birds wore masks

The haunting stain of her woe
Had burned itself into the oak
Night had gone
Bereaved, I was torn for her

One last time I witnessed her beauty in the distance
The arms of the trees tore at her morbid gown swaying in the loathsome winter breeze
She faded before my eyes
Since that day a thousand veiled birds have taken flight
And the melancholy rain still pours forever on...