Ladies in White

There is always
A Lady in White

In every empty home
On every breaking step
There is always
A Lady in White

And on every breaking rung
Glides her flowing white gown
Her quiet voice rings out
In every deafening silence
Oh, but who is she?
We always must know
Who is she?
Is she but a figure of imagination
Or did she truly used to be?
Oh, but who is she..?

In every aching stairwell
There is always
A Lady in White
Or at a vacant crossing
Is the Lady in White

Stories whispered
About a past
But we don't know what's true
We don't know what's true

Just a sweet perfume
Blowing past,
Wafting near
The same whose clicking heels
We hear
She is
The Lady in White

Rapping, echoing at our doors
There is always
The Lady in White

The last two posts...

Really sucked. Ass. I really gotta say. [ed. note: they've since been deleted.]

Sorry about that. It's been a bit of a dry spell.

I'm hitting you with something new. I've worked on two, and one of them is pretty much wrapped up. I hope we like it.

...

NOW.

Apologies again...

Work has been eating up most of my time. I work 8 hour shifts for five days.

I still have things I want to write out, though. I'm only planning to gain more.

Also, I've been talking with a (really awesome) drummer from said workplace, and he's going to be seeing some of these very lyrics tomorrow, so...

Maybe we can start hearing how all of this will sound soon, hm?

...

Let's hope.

Lucky number 13

Oh, buddy

I see your skeleton still hangs
From the same crossing as ever
The bridge with the tracks
Just above the river
Swaying in the breeze
Brought in by tide, nearby
From an ocean open wide

Your rope necktie
Cradling your boney nape
But the darkness is coming in
The sun's light fades
You're looking down at
White, boney toes
And at the waves
As they get blacker
And blacker

But as they break the crag
Do you notice, friend
That the waves always grow darkest
Before they come crashing?
The waves always grow darkest
Before they come crashing.

The Bells

The bells rang their tones nearby,
Or so it seemed
Different notes strung together
Speaking
Speaking a phrase
A quiet stillness all around
But still the bells speak
No other noise heard

And like a child lost
I wander
And try to locate their origin
But I only chase my tail
Like the Thirsty Dog
As they continue to ring
Ring, Ring, Ring
In my ear

It's dawn on the end of the world
And still the bell choir rings out
Ring, Ring, Ring

All uncertainties came to die
To become ash as grey as heaven above
No man spoke
Not a car, driven
But still a phrase rang out!

I braved the empty fields,
Obscured by a veil of morning's fog
And barren schoolyards
Void of the innocent children's laughter
Of their mirth
No rancher tending the cattle,
In fact, they were missing, too
But still, from some nearby surrounding
The bells kept resounding

Different tones strung together
Speaking
Ring, Ring, Ringing
A melodious goodbye
Ring ring
Bye bye

Continuing the winter/forest themes.

Originally, I only planned to write this much:

If you look deep
You will find
A solitary winter's rose
Hidden
Beyond the lonely path
Of love's trail

But I added a bit more.

...

If you look deep
You will find
A solitary winter's rose
Hidden
Beyond the lonely path
Of love's trail

Glimmering in frost
But a bloody shade beneath
Like that of the beating
Lover's heart

Both grow veins
Both exist the same
But this is a rose
Not thorny
Nothing to prick the skin
And extract the blood

It sits in frozen complacency
Untouched

But I wonder when
The petals shed
And the flower rests
For another bloom
And why creatures
Do not wish
To tempt tastes of its fruit
We're not to know the truth

All it remains
Is the solitary
Winter's rose
Is all it remains

The Ladies of Sorrow (wrap-up)

Well, I've managed to finish up one of my bigger attempts to write something.

It started as the first entry in here, as well as being the first real big effort of my own to write something...different.
edit: http://gabrielgrub.blogspot.com/2008/10/ladies-of-sorrow-unfinished-dream.html/ (Since it effed ish up.)

And it wraps up...here

...

While Madonna moves
With woeful grace
The Third will leave blood
In her trace

And the Second Sister
Sighs her weary song
Her gentle weeps, the melody
The Third cries out unholy screams
And bitter cackles
For her trickery

She breathes fire into lungs
From heavy bosoms, hidden
Behind black, draping locks
And lips cold,
Frozen
Like midnight
On a first winter's eve

Her dance
Is for the Mysteries
That haunt us
Long after
Laid to wake
And her title
Is The Youngest
Our Lady
Of Darkness

Praise the Ladies of Sorrow!

As there were three Fates
There are three Ladies of Sorrow
For three Graces,
There are three Furies,
Just the same
Their laughter is unheard
Their songs, unsung,
They speak the symbols,
While we dream the words..