Speak, dear friend, has the void taken thee?
Did this realm become all too much to bear?
With your ghostly hand,
This once faithless man believes,
And with your frail touch,
I know what it is to grieve.
How I yearn for your solace, pale ghost,
How I yearn to walk these hallowed grounds forever.
With your ghostly hand,
This once faithless man believes,
And with your whispers faint,
The sorrow never seems to cease.
A life lost is the price we pay,
For every second in wasted day,
A fleeting glimpse of majesty,
Was all I had 'fore you were taken from me.
My frail phantom, disappear once more,
Before I follow you back into the dark.
I'll follow, forever, into the dark.
