Necromancy
If I stood next to you yearning
Would you feel my sad soul burning
The flames their heat slowly turning
My mind into the chaos
Or would you stay there thinking
While the world was deftly sinking
I should be with the captain drinking
A toast to my wilted psyche:
Was I left behind
By sad sages
Tempting birds
In fine gilt cages?
Watch as I perform
All my rages
So sad I could not make it,
My weary head might not take it
A cold gray hand
Worn and grim
Moves its bone-thin fingers
And beckons me in
(The Black Book)