of my dying heart beats feeble, fades fast
I cling to life as a chill breeze does blow
Erasing my memory of terrors past
But to whom is it of import, anymore
The final song of my moribund soul
Whose one true hope and essence lives no more
But yea, in the valley of death I toil.
Oh, what is there that is lasting, in this
Cruel, chill world that is my sarcophagus?
Not word, nor wit to seal with fatal kiss
The harbinger of doom, my Horse worldly Lust.
Yet as I lie here in the darkness faint,
World-worn eyes on eternal Zion trained.