fun in shakespearean
By Anathema •
ten o clock the cold bell rings
the death and suffering of loved one brings
why in silence misery thrives
why cannot i close mine eyes
and ladies dance
with lords they prance
and one by one
fall to the ground
the menacing clock thunders its chant
and ballroom floor is mottled and damp
a flood hast come and ruin'd it
with stains that taint thy slipper'd foot
the paintings hung upon the wall
the polish'd wood around them all
and follow down the staircase tall
to watch the ladies and gentleman fall
before you i give
these souls on the floor
a river of blood hast settled the score
and now, one for one, even we've become
for i have died as many times for you.