Morbid Dreams Of A Phantasma Concealed

Beseeching fallen hypocrites

Which berudge the world it´s suppressed pleasures

To free her twisted mind

And let her thoughts fall blind

Cause every night

In her childlike deep slumber

She fears the grotesque visions

Like the poison in her tumbler

Frightened by the moving shadows

A sole left figure in the floor

That had to pass the ancient portraits

With eyes that witnessed dead before

In her funeral dress

With a knife held in anger

She creeps through the chambers

Of a secret old mansion

An open door

Just slightly left ajar

Allowing fear to step inside

And tear away a soul from life

Fine trickles slowly clear their way

Down silk weaved, chalk bleached pillows

Awaiting just to stain the crime

And mix with tears that fall apart

Still not understanding

Which cruel deeds the hatred bears

The mirrored blood of ghosts

Is covering her fixed stare

Wishing to awake again

And forget the returning nightmare

Of the concealed dead phantasm

Which the mirror will reveal

Only one way to put an end

To what she fears the most

A painful act of self-control

A drama not to envy

Watching herself in the lukewarm water

A last gaze into the eyes of her own

Greeting the phantasm with a benevolent smile

Before descending into silence alone

Never again will she wake up in wrath

For as evenfall covered her unpleasent eyes

After eighteen years in torture she died in the bath

A feral beast in a maiden disguise