A sick'ning thunder flashes 'neath the sky.
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My Muse lies flat! Lies flat! Lies cold! Lies dead!
My heart pumps crimson rage, fear, dearth and dread--
I'm half alive yet half afraid to die.
Dear Muse I cannot follow where you go.
May this black rose of sorrow light your way,
My Muse, I know it's truth that you must stay
Asleep until the end of time, or – no?
My Lazarus! Inspire me once more!
You, Muse, alone can waken from the grave.
Dear Muse, do kiss me sweetly, shut the door.
You kiss shall fill this empty pad I've saved!
Oh Muse, oh inspiration, oh sweet love
You live. No more thorns!