A Thousand Deaths Before Me

A lover who learns his lesson in the game of love

Wolves are howling at a bloody moon
The sky is darkened by evil spirits
Petals from dead roses embody the wind
You stand pure and yet unmisplaced
Near the tree of a thousand deaths
 
My eyes are ready to be cleansed
My body seeks to embrace your virgin touch
But your lips are sweet poison
I drop dead as the thousand and one victim
Adding another roaming spirit among the dying roses
 
Such is the beauty of sin
And the purity of evil
Even when it's too good to be true
A lover's eyes makes angels of devils