Beseeching fallen hypocrites
Which berudge the world it´s suppressed pleasures
To free her twisted mind
And let her thoughts fall blind
Cause every night
In her childlike deep slumber
She fears the grotesque visions
Like the poison in her tumbler

Frightened by the moving shadows
A sole left figure in the floor
That had to pass the ancient portraits
With eyes that witnessed dead before
In her funeral dress
With a knife held in anger
She creeps through the chambers
Of a secret old mansion

An open door
Just slightly left ajar
Allowing fear to step inside
And tear away a soul from life

Fine trickles slowly clear their way
Down silk weaved, chalk bleached pillows
Awaiting just to stain the crime
And mix with tears that fall apart

Still not understanding
Which cruel deeds the hatred bears
The mirrored blood of ghosts
Is covering her fixed stare
Wishing to awake again
And forget the returning nightmare
Of the concealed dead phantasm
Which the mirror will reveal

Only one way to put an end
To what she fears the most
A painful act of self-control
A drama not to envy

Watching herself in the lukewarm water
A last gaze into the eyes of her own
Greeting the phantasm with a benevolent smile
Before descending into silence alone
Never again will she wake up in wrath
For as evenfall covered her unpleasent eyes
After eighteen years in torture she died in the bath
A feral beast in a maiden disguise