When The Black Hands Dance

They bear no names... The black hands are dancing
They search for him... All for the king.

Staring at open palms, hear the redrum pound
One upon the battlefield, false vanity has won...
Down in the darkness, echoes of dead cries
There's beauty in pain, and pain is their light...

They bear no names... The black hands are dancing
They call for him... Here lies the king.

Mirrored upon pearl-white eyes
A black halo
Stare into the depths of nevermore
Does it stare back?

A murder of divas, bleeding as the choir
Beneath the shadows, the garden lies withered...
When the black hands dance, encircled beneath the sun
Only the dead will hear, screams of a lost zion...

Such passion lay unfinished, lost to the world... Regrets
Precious thoughts unspoken... And silent are the trumpets
No more bard songs, only a crying child
A ghastly crowd faceless, watching this denial
Resounding within the mind, a serenade to still hearts
As ice on the dark stares, how deep do they scar?
Under the rage of wings, cradled by coldness
Into the dark shadows and winter quintessence...

Mirrored upon pearl-white eyes
A black halo
Stare into the depths of nevermore
Does it stare back?

Only the dead will hear the sound of such music.

Life goes on if there is pain.

They bear no names... The black hands are dancing
They sing for him... Long live the king.

Still the dance goes on, final breaths linger
In stillness he's loved, caressed by their fingers...
Joining the cries of time, planted in pain
...As the dead don't rest, within this garden...

Mirrored under pearl-white eyes
A black halo
Stare into the depths of nevermore
Does it stare back?