Yearning for days of yore in elysian daydreams
Burn with a fatal gloss a confounding mirror of souls
Dance with the winterwinds in thy visions so sanguine
Glance upon Stygian streams where lies hidden a pale secrecy

Hark… lures of the siren
yearn for the days when blithe thou was

Sworn to a secrecy an arcanum devotee
Mourning a life with thee a descendance of watery argentine
Trance of thy frailty endure the exsanguine
Glance beyond closed eyelids the [bad word] of all mysteries

Hark… lures of the siren
yearn for the days when blithe thou was

Crossing in life…
My heart with silver in times…
I'm weak… too weak…

Wan circling skies secretes… silvering sorrow
Precious to me Aphelion
Thou are the fields where we wither still

Exhaust in thy waning world
My Aphelion on a broken mirror
Where the veils of night and day seems as one
May thy lids gather again on a vast and frail [bad word] 
Invigoration of pain pervation this time