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So I walked in a chilly no mans land

My mind lost across sulphurous dreamscapes

After pain a formal feeling comes

Nerves sits as statues on ancient tombs

Feet mechanical go round

Of ground, of air of ought

A wooden way regards less grown

A quartz rest like a stone

This is the hour of lead

Then I saw a spot of bonewhite light

And in fog it's lunar conundrums

I saw an oak, twisted giant of these lands

By its terrified arms dangled 3 hanged men

They are already half unstrung

And black as burnt meat

And around a vinegary fume of death

Vats clung to them, but one started talkin':

"Sorry about this, if the first trace you need

comes to you afloat in this carrion sea,

but if my tongue now is black a slug

my words are truthful like a tube made in lead.

In this land riddled with ghost

with her sad granite grin,

rules a lady staring from her hood of bone.

She rise out the ash and eats men like the air,

can you hear the blood droppin' down of

her throne?

Open your eyes, the awful truth you'll find

is yet hidden in the twist of your brain.

So let rise your obscured feminine side

and truth rise toward you day after day

like a terrible fish"

Then I felt a cleaving in my mind

As if my brain had split

I tried to match it - seam by seam

But could not make them fit

The thought, I strove to join

Unto the thoughts before -

But the sequence raveled out of sound

Like balls upon a floor

I'm drived insane!

What damn'd inn is this

Where for the night peculiar traveler comes?

Who is the landlord and where are the maids?

Behold, the curious rooms!

La venta quemada!

No ruddy fires on the heart,

no brimming tankards flow!

Necromancer! Landlord!

Who are these below?