Spring and Summer, fall and withers, the winds of time blow Autumn leaves, a crisp white lawn shelters snowdrops and the ball rolls again and again and again...
'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust' a maudlin tune, carried far by the breeze, o'er the hill, through winding trees and down to the old graveyard grim. Bone white headstones covered in flowers,
Plain clothes, painted wings claiming piety whilst I take nightly the last breath from vermillion lips. A reprise to the cry; the 'shick' of my knife taking life, the Devil's device