The Meadow of Sins - Wicked Asylum

The grip of dementia that smiles from a veil

Distorts all my visions, my passions of clay

She gathers the nymphos, the child and the rain

The ballet of death is our own masquerade

The lanterns are shining from my stoned demise

That sparkles like stars while I’m dying inside

The ghost of my sorrow you just cannot bear

For nothing is worth of my needless despair

The ballet won’t stop

Till our voices are whispers

Like frozen drops at the hands of our trickster

You walk on the scaffold you try not to see

You blame me for something you seem to esteem

In who is delighted to laugh at your sorrow

In name of your love she will kill you tomorrow

Silent is howling your death dressed in white

You don’t want to see that your time now is nigh

I may be deceived by my silent devotion

But all that Iʼll be is confetti in motion

The ballet won’t stop

Till our voices are whispers

Like frozen drops at the hands of our trickster