Spearing the fish

Those little wish fish

Fire works on the horizon

Confetti with rose paint and crimson

Shields ME.

To winter's apocalypse

Wind, rain, cold, Sun

Terror and a sunset

Darkness all sorts of surrealist enchantment

It gets made up like a mannequin

Flying like an eagle out of he'll

So fear no EVIL

But the valley of death

The escape into the present

Is now

And not for cowards.