Her Clock Stopped at Midnight
She walked a sea of roses, yet decay bloomed in her wake
A tragedy of beauty, such a beautiful mistake
Her flesh it dripped with fire, yet her lips were cold as ice
Her clock it sits unmoving in the ashes of twilight
Oh! Yet, she stirs...
On the frosty ground she lies, on her lips that frozen smile
Even in her darkness, she corrupts with burning eyes
Oh yes she stirs!
Even in her darkness, frozen evermore
Her clock it filled with water
...as it washed upon these shores.
Writer/s: Andrew Collins / Chris Pope
