Dream Reaper
Dead rose, black and stale.
My love has gone dead and pale.
Heavens cry, hell howls.
Hellish beast prays on my bowls.
I drop to my knees, scared and alone,
Scared of you being for ever gone…

Bitter morning rises soon.
After howling blood red moon.
Fogy existence clouds my mind,
Terrified of what I might find.
Trying to convince my self: “this isn’t true”,
I have over seen one important clue.

I failed to see,
this isn’t my reality.
I struggle to wake,
trying to fight this horrible fake.

Silent scream,
In this dream.
Terrible sweat,
struggling to forget.

Forget this synthetic reality
That showed my love’s fatality.

I woke up screaming.
Discovering I was only dreaming.

What was this dream trying to hide?
Over taken of fear I looked to my side.
I turn on the light,
To see better what gave me a fright.

Cold shivers crawl down my spine.
There my love lies in her blood,
red as wine.

Valberg Már Öfjörð
1980 - ...

Ljóð eftir Valberg Már Öfjörð

Dream Reaper