Ashen plains under the moon

Crown of the nightskies
That now dresses her in red
Crown of the Moon
Whore in blood drought of doom

Crown of her silver virginal rings
For they are lacerated
By holes in her corpse
Amidst of pleasure by the nine signs

In wounded eclipse
Devouring her blind eyes in scar

The realm awake of the nightly plains
On the tears, from eyes in pain

A dead tree dried
Its scattered remains below the stars
An aged angel
Rotting in this landscape of the nightside

And as her shadow rises
The darkness fills the blind eyes
As the scar opens to bleed dead the light