The Piano of Yore

The Piano of Yore-

In the silence of the dying evening,
Rustling of whispering tree leaves,
With screams of the last left crows,
My head torn with madness,
My hand bloody with ripped nails,
I reach to wards the enormous entity,
I reach towards the ancient piano.
The Piano of Yore.

The room lit only by the expired ashes of the hidden sun,
My rabid eyes watch, my rotten hands reach;
reach towards the grand piano.
The Piano of Yore.

My head rise with the notes of forgotten piece,
which my hands play on the ancient piano,
My insane mind behest my rotten hands,
With old shedding skin, to tap harder.
So hard, the notes remain notes no more,
Note’s like a vibe of some ugly ring of rusted metal.
But my head rise in ecstasy of the
maddening music.
My frantic mind, relish the ear tearing screeches of the ancient piano,
The Piano of Yore.

My fingers hasten, as the lunacy of my confused mind gets lost;
Lost in the music of the ancient piano,
The Piano of Yore.

As the last ember of the sun,
drops behind the dark clouds of night,
The music bleeds my ears,
The music bleeds my nose,
The music bleeds my eyes.
The formless music of devil, bleeds the last breath of sanity under the blanket of madness.
But the music, the notes are still heard,
Notes of the ancient piano.
The Piano of Yore,
The Piano of Yore!