Fear has spoken to me
once more. Stealing my senses,
she seems to laugh sadistically.
My heartbeat is staccarto and
these bloodshed eyes are sealed
like the walls around a castle gate.
It is night time in the Garden
of Eden, where I long to be,
but I am full of original
sin. And the stars appear
duller, my emotions are flatter;
and my tired voice is weaker.
What is to become of me?
Oh jealously and guilt will not
kill the shadows of fear with
these selfish endevours.
The bells of doom begin to toll,
and all I can hear is the sound of
its lonely music that
drowns out the pleasures of life.
I beg of you Notre Dame release
me from your power, the
solitary woes of clairvoyant pain
have become your speciality.

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