Solemn Somnambulism

Bringing about the screams in the rain,

Ending their lives with so much pain

I fly forth from the shadows that kept me sane.

He finds it…pleasurable criticism

That, indeed, my solemn somnambulism.

Every minute within the hour

Made my spirit from sweet to sour.

They run like the crows that turn and cower.

My feathers of solemn somnambulism

Lies upon their assiduous asceticism.

Thirst makes me blind though I'm still fearless

To the bloodshed, Lycans care less

About some corpses bleeding from their lips

From the meat, we eat so many things.

That is I whom made the raven sing:

"The blood…the gore…

The slashing of the claws.

The plea…I want more!

That and so many flaws…

You find it with quite some realism.'

But that is not my solemn somnambulism.

He convulses my heart's desire,

Turns it around and set it on fire.

He calls me his partner but he's just a liar.

Please, padre, give me baptism

For my sinful, solemn somnambulism.

The lycan, the wolf never leaves my head

Nor my life with me on my deathbed.

I would have been better off dead

As much slaughter my sin has fled.

This is my solemn somnambulism…

REALITY…