"Damn, They're back."
Spirits that sweep across my sleep
Ensnare my mind to mal de mer.
Stampede across my passions deep.
The damning phantoms riding there.
Rob my rest like a common thief
And will not spare me quiet time.
They trample me with hooves of grief,
Misguided times of former crime.
Demented faces in moonlight,
Igniting the fires of unrest
They keep me in a sweaty fright,
The ugly sight of ghosts at crest.
Each phantom a fiery story,
Spouting the flame that dragons blow.
I stay in a purgatory,
Waiting the flames of hell below.
I damn the ghosts' their nagging cries,
All that is done in life lies done.
Where are the ghosts of their demise
And the phantoms that they have won?
I ask you demons, spare this host
And leave my mind a dreamless wend.
And I will face you ghost to ghost,
When comes my true demise and end.
Hell is hell and I know it well,
But once is all should toll its bell.
[This message has been edited by Seymour Tabin (edited 11-12-1999).]