When I used to search for ghostwords,
I believed each entity is sentient
The astrologer never helped me to find it,
He was afraid that ventriloquist might steal it
The astrologer could hear the songs without his ears.
Learn the ghostword you must to manipulate it
And unlearn it to use it again
The messenger of the ghostword will never arrive
Cause your deception calls the young birds
Trees roam free over the burning seas
Numbers of shadows keep rising
Immortal stays the body of Arizel
In the puppeteer’s blood she dwells
The unknown power hit me,
When I waited for Arizel on my asylum’s stairs.
The trees became the newborns
Some of them turning into skies
The river will not stay oblivious
I pray it will eventually start giving shelter,
To them who bring back her possessions.
The skies the infants,
By newborns they will always be summoned
The evening bells have now started to chime
The gallows rust by the morning light
The new day invokes a nostalgic life.
If the latch on the Toolshed happen to open,
The age of confluence will arrive again
With force much stronger
The ghostword wouldn’t be used again
The prophesier would lose its powers
Now you know,
It was the puppeteer who bred what you sing
The skies will be watching you all forever
The river will accept your ordure
The god bears no name in our brave new world.