The writer of the first word
Not the writer of the last
With the terror of the light
And the shadow cast

The third eye now opened
To project the night
This is the moment
To write

This is the ritual
To lead you on
Your friends will meet him
When you are gone



Lost on the shore
Between the forest and the ocean
The owl and the deer
Reflected in motion

In his room, he will hurt her
In hers, he is caught
His story ends
Her story does not

This is the ritual
To lead you on
Your friends will meet him
When you are gone



A pale balloon in the sky
Float and sink deeper
Night springs when bright Falls
for this sleeper

The surface disturbed
The reflection now a traitor
In the cavity of the skull
Turned to a crater

This is the ritual
To lead you on
Your friends will meet him
When you are gone