2014. január 16., csütörtök at 12:24 with
The woman from Italy
Is arriving today
Nothing can stop her
From coming this way
She will hear no pleading,
she cares not for succor
she is the woman from Italy
bow low before her
All the children in town
Know to hide in their rooms
The adults have forgotten -
They’ll recall all too soon
Her hands are like storm clouds,
With lightning-quick talons
All before is a murmur,
All after is silence
The woman from Italy
Is with us this evening
We hide and we shudder
But there is no deceiving
She exhales must and steam,
She poisions the air
Say you have a family, say it!
She doesn’t care.
The woman from Italy
Delifghts in your pain
She asks just one favor,
But asks again and again
„Do you think you could-
No rush, just a moment! -
Give in screming to
Eternally burning torment?”
The woman from Italy,
Oh! End of all things
She has seen the fall of Babylon
She drunk the blood of kings
Her robes are shadow,
Her eyes are dusk
Her voice is amber
And chalk dust and rust
The woman from Italy
Has honed in your scent
She seeks out your refuge
(Oh yes! She knows where you went!)
It’s your skin that she wants
Bound and browned into leather
But first, predecease,
I give you the weather.
The woman from Italy
Oh merciful goddess!
Her victims are legion
But this evening they’re no tus
We grab grateful breaths
From the night-shaded air
Bated breths, fearful breaths,
But breathe deep – nothing there.
The women from Italy is gone
But then, not for always
She waits behind doors
And at the end of dark hallways
She follows no logic,
Exists solely for spite
But you are safe now, dear listeners
Good night, Night Vale, good night.
/Glen David Gold/
Címkék: kibaszott irodalom
