Lyrics

She walks through whispers sharp as glass,
Where fading ghosts and dead things pass.
The trees are hushed, the moon is thin,
And somewhere waits his wicked grin.
Upon a branch in twisted pose,
A striped illusion softly grows.
His eyes like mirrors, black within,
Still shining with that wicked grin.
“You’re late,” he purrs, “but not too slow.
You’ve come to reap what you don’t know.
You silence all, but not what’s true,
And even death will follow you.”
His wicked grin, it doesn’t fade,
He smiled the same as he was flayed.
No scream, no curse, no final cry,
Just teeth that gleamed as you would die.
She made no sound, no cruel delight,
Just shadows drowned in endless night.
She doesn’t flinch, she doesn’t speak,
Her will is sharp, her vengeance bleak.
No heart to sway, no soul within,
Just purpose shaped in porcelain skin.
He grins until his throat is torn,
And bleeds into the roots, never reborn.
But still that smile refuses to break,
As if he laughs for her own sake.
His wicked grin, her cursed reign,
The echo stitched into her vain.
Though she survives, she will not win,
She walks alone, the emptiness grows within.
No peace, no end, no love, no sin,
Just dark silence and his wicked grin.