In January my soul was released to be at one with friendly deamons...
I flew and danced in the darkest ways for all my darkest reasons...
Then in febuary my reaper came ... he took me too my Master...
I bowed in service of my Lord, i'd finally met my maker.
In March i hurried round in fear that i'd commit my darkest error,
For my Lord he asks perfection, and he asks it with such terror.
But in April i was still to serve, no mistake had come to be,
And i served him well, and gainied respect, a high deamon then was me.
Come May i was his helper, to teach and force his rules,
He offered me his soul to share, he built my home with sacred tools,
Then for June did quickly come, and i grew weak and ever sad,
Apparently my Master had grown bored of what we'd had...
In July he tormented and tortured my role,
No longer i served as his comapanion in soul.
And soon Septemeber came rushing in,
My Lord cast me out, as if, rubbish to bin,
My October was lonely, so depressing and low,
I wish i knew why, my Lord wished me to go,
And now in November i cry tears of pain,
And i expect that December shall be much the same.
So for now i'll retreat, go back whence i came,
Maybe some day i will serve once again.
But too little to late, and too much all at once,
Had broken my spirit, throughout the gone months,
I had lost touch with Master, and he wanted my heart,
But that broke when you left me... when you chose you should part.
So to you i shall look to the blame for my tears.
And i'll torture and hound your through each coming year.
Black Heart