A crystal ball in the window of a shop Such a quaint superstitious device On a whim I decided I would have it It was mine for a modest little price At home that night by the fire With the wind driving hard outside There was not much left of a bottle of wine And not much left of my pride With a single foolish glance, I was captured I hardly even tried to resist Drawn to the heart of the blue-white glass By a slow-moving figure in the mist Like a curious cat regarding its prey She brought her gaze to mine The reflected light put fire in her eyes Made her jet black hair seem to shine Her song was all I heard Felt like all I'd ever need See what death can be What you've lost is here with me What you fear I lay to sleep All your dreams... As we walked through her garden together She led, and I didn't dare stray It was warm and the air was gentle She said it always seems to be that way I was strong, and I carried no burden Standing tall as an oak in spring And I finally heard a voice that I'd missed so long That I wanted more than any damn thing The song was all I heard Felt like all I'd ever need Never ceasing in my mind Through the bitterest of times See what death can be Come and rest a while with me Long ago we both were free Join me now... I have waited patiently For your touch to bring me peace Now we're close enough to reach Come to me... ...Coming to, my head was screaming Three days spent near dead and dreaming I was starving-wasted-shaking cold with sweat Spinning staring at the ceiling In a half-suspended state and feeling fury on the heels of raw regret I bit down hard cause I needed the taste of blood And the shock put me back on a steady keel I bit down hard cause I needed the taste of blood And the shock brought me back Even in a sober state the echoes lingered From the lady's liquid silver serenade The persistent sympathetic resonation Of illusions too near real to simply fade But the glass itself was silent dark and empty Not a flicker of an image still remained I threw it on the rocks in the gutter Let the pieces wash away in the rain See what's left of me Turning grey and growing weak Heroes run to what they seek Cowards turn