Lonely Soldier

His flesh is itching,
It is aching fair maiden.

You may not see,
The dark stench, then quivers his levels.

In the brush,
He is now his own ghost.

He has his soul,
Full now, 
Built by control.

But, fair rusalka.

Nymph by the sleep,
Do you really see, 
What is haunting me.

One with sleeping eyes,
One with innocent eyes, 
One by the see, 
One bright on my sights.

Have you forgotten me.

You tombed my rightful flag,
In a box made of glass,
Pressed high for me to see, 
That my fair maiden,
So beautiful,
So loving,
Could betray men of disease.

For the one that hath the lead i ceased,
Your head was mustered,
For the heart, 
Was broken.