Wuthering Nights

My bed grows ever colder
I scattered my dusty heart on the winds long ago
When my darling perished
And left me all unloved
My gypsy nature leaves me poor in body, mind, and spirit
Nightmarish dreams a-haunt me
Her voice! But only I can hear it.
I laugh aloud, I weep, I sigh
I fling the shutters wide
Call her name across the darkness
Love has no room for pride
Still alone
In my cold, dead, coffin-bed I lie awake with need
I pray for mercy, an end to love or life
But God pays me no heed

Copyright © 1999 by Hot Lizard Boy