The Piper at Hell's Door

In the tower of piercing night,

A sweet chorus of hopeless light,

Blissful aria of good fortune,

Lures the souls to death and ruin,

A chromatic figure plays his lyric,

Foreboding omen of painful infliction,

Gleeful jester of harmonious curse,

Leads the condemned to burning damnation,

Dances and frolics by the deep orifice,

Powers of death his instrument summons,

Demons arise from ebony crevice,

Wreaking with powers of hate and destruction,

Daintily and cheerfully playing his fife,

As hopeless children screaming for life,

Piper playing at the doorstep to Hell,

Protecting the gates where the demons dwell,

An ominous figure appears by his side,

The lord of shadows the piper confides,

"Excellent work," the figure said,

"By pain and hate, reaper of the dead."