Ghost Plains - Seven Sisters of Sleep

years come to a close

fog crawls on the ground, soiled by those

who frightneingly gather, under the fucking banner

hands cup ears, nothing but echoes

his army of hellhounds, defeated by

one stormy eyed fox, warnings unheard

relative of the siren, who brings the fog

masks penetrators, moving like wind

close up turning point, eyes finally widen

float upon, the returning echos

to the protecting banner

welcomed by a demon whore fox

years close, diseasor exposed

one blooded hand

nothing but echoes