Woe

Woe Woe what endless woe
To fret is but a sign of hollow,
Hollow follows the empty soul,
Who seeks in vain for a hope to hold.

Woe woe what endless woe,
As the clashing of tongues leads to a void world,
Where all killed and none breathed,
Thus a means to end a deed.

Woe Woe what endless woe,
Demented by the thoughts of a row,
A spear sharpen and ready to strike,
The heart pierced and all is night.