BeoWolve of Darkheart

Beo & Craven on a hunt

A young sentry was mad and in black leather clad...
a foe of all fad had arisen one day....
and with a deafing cry and a tear in his eye....
'neath dawns brilliant sky his mind went astray....
amongst those who cowered the sentry he towered....
the beast overpowered the village of rhyme....
low walls that had crumbled....
the villagers stumbled....
rhyme it had tumbled my gateway of time....
what death may one think of....
the pain and the stink of....
when one takes a drink of the sentry's red wine....
yet he who shant worry....
tis no small task to bury....
jaw-clenching fury yeilds death with no sign....
shall find it a haven....
from black taloned raven....
lest yee be one craven in heart and not mind....
o the latter is worse....
for he bears the curse....
put a mock idol first....
and destroyed the white shrine....
amd me i'm a mason....
one man keeping pace in....
the quest for a place in which hides a new rhyme....
so look hard and wonder....
as i go asunder....
where no beast might plunder....
my gateway of time...
american youth sought to waste its time in search of new euphoric
stride....
angels in celestial prime consumed by evils rising tide....
a climbing, rising, swirling mass....
abyss of sleep....
a dreamless night....
until a thousand 'morrows pass....
with only hopeless dance of flight....
to climb upon the sacred wall....
to struggle to reach the top....
and fall....