She craves his body for pleasure,
But he will not play pretend,
Oh, how lover's quarrel!
When their words are without censure,
And the victim trails in gray shrouds,
How delicious their turmoil!

He lusts for her heart to be his,
But she does not relent,
Yes, the tallest fall hard!
Their feet ghost the sullen ground,
And the serpent sways to their song,
How charmed their penance.

He drowns in spiritual water,
Night after night the same baptism --
A child clings to her pillar of cold rock,
Her mother disconsolate and lost in slaughter,
Her body taken nightly to survive,
And he drinks himself anew!
His only escape the drunken depths
Of his glassy, wine-stained prison.

Bitter child in the fields,
Turning a blind eye to friend;
Of late his mind is haunted 
By a specter of Night's leer,
The men sneer and they mock,
They in their pious strength,
Unaware that the child's demons
Come to tease and play at dusk.

And at last is this dusk over,
And so with it goes the dream.