One sunny Sunday
Death came to my smithy
In his shroud of black
Trailing a shadow, like blood
Spilt on the butcher’s floor
Your time has come.
Said Death
What say you?
I am not ready, Ancient One.
So say they all.
One sunny Sunday
Death came to my smithy
In his shroud of black
Trailing a shadow, like blood
Spilt on the butcher’s floor
Your time has come.
Said Death
What say you?
I am not ready, Ancient One.
So say they all.
And there take in
All that is
Spread out into infinity
And while I have never seen
An Elf, Sprite or Dwarf
I know their presence
In the fantastical beauty
Of their works
If we could live a fairy tale
With spells, I would acquire
For you the gold that glitters
Our true love would inspire