Mask Of The Red Death

Sickness born with lifeShe is careful and patient shadowMan's faithful enemyUnceasingly transformed, rebaptizedBehind a different maskI know it's always the same face,Always the same eyes greedy for agonyAlways the same compassionate earsListening to our moans,To our heartbeatsPassive and disinterestedLike an infidel wifeThis cold and wet mouthWill give us the very last kissDeath is redFor those who experience her tormentsBound to death like a daughter to her motherShe gives her mass graves overflowingOf sketched life, of projects and hopesWhat's good to see her so activeAbandoned, in the arms of another plagueHumanity slowly disappearsSomeone prays, some others cryWhat's good to see her so active