There is a silent man in a tower
mute in a blinded world
yet words dance on virgin lips
freezing the winds of blood
Clad in layers of darkest velvet
drenched in the gloomy light of dawn
all black
And in his wait for the grand finale
standing atop of the stairs
from dawn to dusk his heart's ablaze
Uncovering words from an obsolete state of mind
sharpen them, turn them into arrows
descend into grief, without a bow no arrows fly
bitter black
Passing through the ebony archways
hand in hand with the wisdom of stars
wisdom dressed in blackest array
There is no man in that tower
walking the shores in black
bitter frost now bite the walls of hope
no traces in the sand