spears
our thoughts reach for the surface
a pour pace
in which we wipe our tears!

we strive
for perfection under the black moon
don't lie
for this may bring us to our doom!

we see
everything is in our power now
deceive
and in the night suddenly a howl!

the whelp
becomes a winged werewolf
screaming for help
under this satanic gloom...

blackened, our heart
from all the frigid tears
bulls-eye, the dart
we are but an image in a dome of mirrors!