A Winding Road From Friedricks Tower
Which Led Down To The Sea
The Water Foamy, Restless, Black
As Any Water Be
No Living Soul Did I Meet
As I Went On My Way
A Lonely Rider On Dying Horse
This Cold And Wint’ry Day
To Lofty Peaks And Stony Crags
The Narrow Road It Led
Greyish Landscape All Around
Decaying, Void And Dead
The Howling Winds They Whistled, Shrill
As A Dying Maidens’ Screams
The Misty Ramparts Come In View
Like A Drug-Inspired Dream
An Eerie Doorway, Blackened, Old
And Gargoyles Caped In Greenish Mould
The Evil Round Me, Brash And Bold
Would Make The Living Blood Run Cold
The Townsfolk Filled With Horror, Fear
So Afraid They Won’t Come Near
But I Alone Am Master Here
And So Have Been Three Hundred Years