The Stagnant Pool

The stagnant pool,
like a drowned coffin,
still as a deceased heart,
haunting the ghost of the noble crusader,
who recalls pellucid ice clutching the aching twigs,
never a drop to disturb stagnation

Oh they say I'll never win
You'll always get beat
And like a drop of blood from the Devil's tap

I'm dragging the crusader behind
Slips purposely down the black hole back to hell
Steps purposely down the black hole back to hell