We hold the key to Astrophel,
the nightmare's ride our darkest thoughts entomb.
The bell of our madness doth toll,
calling Death like a stillborn child from the womb
The lock of our souls entwining,
we unlock the tomb when our life doth wane.
The bell's echoes are declining,
bequeathing our life's madness to the sane.
Patience is a virtue, but virtue has never been one of my redeeming qualities.
[This message has been edited by DreamEvil (edited 11-13-1999).]