A frigid death awaits me now
The frozen air in my lungs broken down
The whipping winds of early winter cut my crackled skin
There is no shelter from the fury of nature’s whim.
Cold despair settles in the pit of my stomach, cascading down to the tips of my feet
All warmth lost in the tundra of this frozen wasteland, snowy hillbanks full of the dead I shall meet.
Have you seen the reaper yet? Bearing down to seal the debt.
A crooked figure in the white, the only color to pierce the night.
Icy claws reach out to me, a fixation so enchanting.
A piercing shrill tears through the air, heard only by me but no one is there.
No one is there.
The whipping winds of early winter cut my crackled skin
There is no shelter from the fury of nature’s whim.
Cold despair settles in the pit of my stomach, cascading down to the tips of my feet
All warmth lost in the tundra of this frozen wasteland, snowy hillbanks full of the dead I shall meet.
Have you seen the reaper yet? Bearing down to seal the debt.
A crooked figure in the white, the only color to pierce the night.
Icy claws reach out to me, a fixation so enchanting.
A piercing shrill tears through the air, heard only by me but no one is there.
No one is there.
Give into despair! This wasteland will swallow you whole. Give up. Let the dead claim you. Let your body forget the pains of a thousand icy blades cutting into your flesh. It won’t be much longer. Simply close your eyes and begin to rest.
The Forlorn Scythe swung, neck sliced open
Bloodied heads silently screaming: “You cannot escape his blade!”
Tattered robes flap in the winding winds of winter, always clawing. The Reaper’s blade shines through the stormy landscape, a final warning.
Have you seen the reaper yet? Icy blade your throat has met.
A crooked figure in the white, manifestation of winter’s might.
Icy claws reach out to me, alone in despair, I give into thee
A piercing shrill tears through the air, heard only by me but no one is there.

The Forlorn Scythe

Forced to Surface