My name shall etch this age of shame
In flowing words of writhing flame,
I walk in shadow, bearing fire,
My beauty grim, and aspect dire.

I raise my hand, and ravens fly,
They call my lust with every cry,
I'll reap the crop of virgin's tears,
I hold no truth to quell their fears.

A shadow dance for winter night,
I will not feel the chilling bite,
For wreathed in silk, or drenched in sin
I'll drain the warmth of woman's skin.

Their passion, given, taken, mine,
Is drank from lips of ruby wine,
The trembling souls, vampiric kiss,
A feast of flesh to feed their bliss.

A man again, each rising morn,
Awoke unto a fiery dawn,
I flee the ever burning plane
Of love's intolerable pain.


And on that note, it's off to Spain to party again for two weeks.

Farewell ladies and gents.