The Dawn of Winter - Striborg

Commemorating sickle moons

The pack are poised to reap

A scythe of white roses in bloom

Whose twisted thorns will keep

A crown upon a dead man

Daylights crucified in sleep

And lives that hide in scriptured lies

To the memories of a scream

And we shall dance amid the ruin

As Adam and Evil

Dizzy at the falling stars

That burn fiercer in throes of upheaval!