The dark autumn rains
The solstice of the dark autumn rains weep
Upon the grim castle of black and white.
And its melodies harrow the walls deep
And echo in the abyss of the night.
Three hundred years the piano doth bleed.
Three hundred years I keep singing for one.
But not a passing soul pays any heed,
Where angels find muse, but humans find none.
The gates are shackled and bolted shut now,
The candles have now died to dust and stone,
And words fail to comprehend truly how
Lonely it is to sing all on my own.
Gods in the heaven envy as I play,
But not a soul will come to hear and stay.