Nothing lies so well As the face without the desire to tell What fell From eyes, that shed tears upon my feet. Lace your thorns about my form Upon the vines where they grow. Roses hold no meaning For the blood that is gleaming. Let me die, knowing I will leaving, glowing Radiance upon the features that always sung Arias to the distant moon, While feeling scorn from the sun. Blood is the wine Of my old life, crossed into the new void. My place in your arms Is to see where Hell exists in Heaven.