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HauntedFrom the panes a green mist swirls Is it a shadow of reflection? This apparition in moon beams bathed A voice like wind through trees beckons Cool rain on hot summer stone The odour fills my presence Of freshly dug grave and death and night These things are her essence Nocturnal mistress, sprit lover Your mouth of wine and woodsmoke taste My godess of the violet twilight You are lust incarnate In the sweat of my bed The eastern sky hints of dawning Alone and awake but exhausted I lie Oh how I hate the morning |
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Written by Peter Steel, Type-O-Negative 1999
Art by Stephanie Pui-mun Law