The Room Of Paintings

I dream of thee In these dreams You lie dead before my feet Outside, the winter night Cold dismal sight As the harvest moon paints our guise Somewhere… Somehow… In time… There's a killer on the loose In the room of paintings In the dead moonlight Then I awake to this sight There's no horror no fright Just an omen of the Forthcoming demise So many nights Long pineland winters passed So many nights Since I've heard the sea of June