The whistler

The whistler stands below The street a crimson glow A devil's night A minstrel of empty streets His song of mourning creeps A shadow's cry Closing windows cannot end This omen in the wind The horsemen...

To an open field is where we run, When were coping with this loss, Denial acts as the malevolent force, Each memory fades til forgot We need more time, I start to yell, As the truth denies my pleas...