Hopelessness

You believe I'm playing at some game?

You think iron will protect you?

Hear my words, mailing.

Try not to confuse me with my cover.

You see light dappling on the water and overlook the profound, 

Cold dim underneath.

Tune in.You can't hurt me.

You can't run or stow away.

In this, I won't be opposed. 

I depend on all the salt in me: in the event that you oppose my longing,

The rest of your concise human range will be a symphony of hopelessness. 

I depend on stone and oak and elm: I'll make a round of you.

I'll tail you concealed and cover any flash of euphoria you find.

You'll never know a lady's touch, a breath of rest, a second's genuine feelings of serenity. 

Also, I depend on the night sky and the ever-moving moon: in the event that you lead my lord to surrender,

I will cut you open and sprinkle around like a youngster in a sloppy puddle

I'll string fiddle with your guts and make you play it while I move.

You are an informed man. You know there are no such things as evil spirits.

There is just my sort.

You are not savvy enough to fear me as I ought to be dreaded.

You don't have the foggiest idea about the primary note of the music that moves me.