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Candlemass
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Epistle No. 81
Across a crowded room
I first set eyes on you
My vision was impaired
Obstructed out of view
By those - faces in a crowded room
them - bodies in a crowded room
their - breathing in a crowded room
and their - pushing me out
down the fire escape
In the crowded room I won't touch too much
I felt the punch of a punch
The language was enough
To send me running etc.
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Mark how our shadow
Mark Movits mom free
One small darkness encloses
How gold and purple that shovel there
To rags and rubbish disposes
Charon beckons from tumultuous waves
Then trice this ancient digger of graves
For thee ne'er grape skin shall glister
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Wherefore my Movits come help me to raise
A gravestone over our sister
Even desirous and modest adobe
Under the sighing branches
Where time and death, a marriage forebode
Twixt beauty and ugliness ashes
To thee ne'er jealousy findeth her way
Nor happiness footstep, swift to stray
Flitteth amid these barrows
E'en enmity armed, as thou seest this day
Piously breaketh her arrow
The little bell echoes the great bells groan
Robed in the door the precentor
Noisome with quiristers prayerful moan
Blesses those, who enter
The way to this templed city of tombs
Climbs amid roses yellowing blooms
Fragments of mouldering biers
Till black clad each mourner
His station assumes
Bows there deeply in tears
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