It was a dark night, and the skies spun with lightening
Somewhere a midnight forest sung the song of the wild
And through its heart (like a love-driven arrow flying true)
Cut a narrow road, rutted, sunk into mud, ran over with rain in sheets.
On this road someone screamed in agony, and cursed the black forest
Somewhere in the heart of an old old land.
Sweat ran down his brow, and his black tailored suit was covered in mud
A top hat sat askew on his head, and his long dark hair streamed down his face in rain-
driven rivulets
A dark grimace marked his face, straining in frustration and agony
And in his head ran a stream of words, two words, repeating over and over--
But in this man's heart raged a symphony, and it burst from his agonized form with the
pounding beat of thunder, timpani, overwhelming dark force of an orchestra running
along his mud-stained body.
For, you see, his carriage was mired in the storm's mud, and his immortal beloved would
wait only so long