Atop a dark secluded creek
Home to he whose conscience weak-
With all my being submerged in she,
Whose voice remains, it still must be
The first of Eden's melodys.
In thoughts I often drift away
Towards the root of all dismay
To whom beside my passions lay
Has wounded I in such a way
I'd put to words, but words betray.
Her presence close behind him looms
In mirrors, clocks and empty rooms
And ears observe an eerie tune
A laugh much like when flowers bloom
Which heralds my impending doom.
In dreams she lures me to her lair
Where none set foot, none even dare
With her and I and no one there
Alone at last like they once were
Along with this undead despair.
Like clockwork then it starts again
The quest to flee this once dear friend,
That love I squandered way back when.
I wonder would it lead me then -
Back to you where time began.