The moon wallows in black ink sky behind the clouds inside my eye and brings the cool of mid-nights lair upon my skin, inside my hair, the rush of wind caresses my soul a little noise below the pole, where hangs the corpse of Jonathan, a friend a lover my one true foe,

In my eyes I see him now the youthly lad of Grenwin town so quaintly set behind the rise of Rosehill Mt. before my eyes, his voice of freedom heard from a far, over seas below the stars inside the minds of every man Jonathan forever stands,

Against the force that pushed and pulled and laid asunder all the rule of King and Queen in all domains Jonathan displayed his pain, that wet our eyes and left us dry grasping flesh between their thighs, seeping out into the snow Jonathan would not let go,

What brought him down I do not know a final shot a terrible blow, his breath thus ceased his soul released and left his corpse to rot, and so I stand with bloody eyes upon the birth of a new sun rise and hope and pray that on this day his beauty is not forgot.