The Stainglasses Of The Widow's Mansion

She´s dressed in black as the depth of the night
Her nails- They´re long and sharp as a well tempered blade
The inherited grey pendant is there, shinning on over her chest
The veil almost can´t hide her pale skin, she is the Queen of Sleet´s Rage

The beauty and the rage in one face
They fell in love with her

A dark shadow passes alone by the window
Behind the curtains a brief sight appears
The wheatercook turns like a whirlwind
When midnight moonlight creeps in the night

A picture made of light
Refraction of her past
The stainglasses of the widow´s mansion
The silence sounds so loud
Nobody hears your cries
Just when the entrance door gets locked