Fantasia.

In the arms of my lover,
death in her eyes as she sings the tragic lullaby.
"My angel isn't coming for me,
something about broken wings.
He said the wind of this city is too vicious,
too vicious for saints to fly, for sins to die,
in this ghostly town."
But who needs an angel, my love?
Just hold on to me, cling to the one that loves you still.
Let my eternal flame that burns for you,
quench the eerie dread that haunts you cruel.
For albeit, there are spikes in these grounds
and thorns in my flesh;
I would drain the sun of its gold,
high upon heaven's crest,
and empty the silver in the stars,
again to feel thy gentle breath.
That I may hear your heart beat,
that it may beat next to mine again.

Oh Fantasia, dear Fantasia,
let heaven remind you of me,
let every shooting star, ignite the earth ablaze,
the firmaments over this damning stage,
aflame with memories of you and me.
Abide, yes abide in the cool of the evening breeze
and keep within timeless messages of your reveries.
Fantasia, sweet Fantasia,
awake! I pray you awake...
Why, rise.
See, your angel draws nigh,
defy your eyes.
Your love you swore to me,
that till eternity will it be.
Why for have you fallen to the morbid allure of the reaper's scythe
and leave me bereft in grief?

Fantasia mine,
of so much I know not,
friends and fiends, my ignorance mock.
Yet my wealth of this knowledge I am sure,
That I shall miss your rosy cheeks and your ruby lips,
your supple skin and your soulful stare,
The musings of a love that once flared.
And when the skies doth turn grey,
and the sun the earth betray,
we shall go back to yesterday.