Little wrigglers in the pond,

How you squiggle with delight

When the misty taverns break

Into the laments of the night.

So they rose from the depths

Striking jewels upon a grave.

Oh bright wellspring of tears

Where the dark demons bathe.

Their heads are like shadows,

And their breaths are opaque.

Their forms intertwining

For immortality’s sake.

Yet you see how they linger

Under cover of day,

Stinging ghosts in their eyes,

Fearing warbles faraway.

Oh eternity is cruel!

Their bodies bound aflame!

The stars leering earthily,

At their wretched little game!

They crooned in hallowed blood,

Screaming for escape,

Writhing spells of passion,

Their drooling mouths agape.

Dance with dusky mage alike,

Oh holy man in love’s embrace!

And swim in murky waters,

Of sin so sweet the taste!

Whirl with the slandering summer,

And kiss the claws that gripe!

And sit on stones of agony,

With things born out of spite.

Yet their groping hands are frail,

And musings come to end.

His bothered soul still slithering.

But all must make amends.

And so damnation took them,

Their minds were torn asund’

For nothing’s more compelling,

Than the wrigglers in the pond.