Thunder filling the black moon void Clouds by wind being tossed and toyed Smell the fear! Smell the wrath! Scent the pain! Scent the blood! For Juste has come to kill you all!!
And following unknowingly A shadow lurking murkily With stick in war shreaded hand And crucifix upon war shreaded wrist There comes a Dirge.
A dirge you say? A dirge. Ok. Her bitterness a glorious thing to fear For watching amongst the tombstones gray With a skip, a hop, a hoy! and hey! She wanders forever near.
Bitter words pass war scarred lips And clouded glasses rest upon Her war scarred nose, and war scarred cheeks crinkle into the faintest of smiles.
But fear the Wrath! For Juste's near!! And he shall keep you in your fear For hunter's whip is in his hand And he comes to claim his friend.
And with him walks the bitter Dirge Her body freely dripping blood To aid him is her only goal To quell the lust inside her soul.
So fear! Live in fear! Be scared, be afraid!! For this young man, and the bitter maid Shall come, for blood! for tears, for pain! Beyond the storm, beyond the rain
So fear. Just fear For they are near.
--- Yes, I'm using Juste from Castlevania in this. And no, he's not the bloodthirsty lunatic. That's Dirge. I don'know Juste well enough, but this helps me remember his name, by writing it down. We love you, JB!
The Quince · Fri Mar 02, 2007 @ 11:03pm · 0 Comments |