And All This Day An Unaccustomed Spirit

O Heresy In Fair, Fit For These Days, A Giving Hand, Though Foul, Shall Have Fair Praise.

Where Souls Do Couch On Flowers We'll Hand In Hand.

What The Great Ones Do, The Less Will Prattle Of

Our Wills And Fates Do So Contrary Run.

My Grief Lies All Within, And These External Manners Of Lament Are Merely Shadows To The Unseen Grief That Swells With Silence In The Tortured Soul.