The light of the moon serves as source
For my once beating heart, now still
As I wander the lonely corridors of time
Eternal, to grip my breathless, lifeless chest
Each day’s a seductress, but surely my death
For the awaking moon is my life, my morning
To then search high and low for fulfillment
Only to be left with blood of life, not my own
Oh, the pain of the never aging flesh I retain
It serves as the captor, the origin of my demise