All in a golden afternoon, under the skies of cloudless blue,

Laid a body much to cold to be real,

Fiery hair bright like lava, singed the ground dark and true,

Emerald eyes vast and vacant, saw the truth none should see,

For beyond those cloudless blues, something putrid watched with glee.

It writhes and pulses among the stars, singing a ballad of lies and scars.

Rotten skin, thick with tar, sees...