PF

Forgive me, please, my little mare

I can’t stay all Your eery nights

You know here means the same as there

And falcons wings have supreme might

I feel in marrow of my mind

The northern wind gives me its oar

Ray of your foresight is still blind

can’t find my den in your bleak core

Behind the end of all these walls

I will be waiting for Your med

For only sentence, the least false –

Zed is dead, baby

Zed is dead