The moon, she hangs like a cruel portrait
Soft winds whisper the bidding of trees
As this tragedy starts with a shattered glass heart
And the mid-nightmare trampling of dreams
But, oh, no tears, please
Fear and pain may accompany death
But it is desire that shepherds its certainty
As we shall see
She was divinity's creature that kissed in cold mirrors
A queen of snow, far beyond compare
Lips attuned to symmetry sought her everywhere
Dark liquored eyes, an Arabian nightmare