Harvestry Of Ghosts, The - Joy Electric

Grim nor gale shall hinder clove or heather

Ghouls nor satyr partakes goblets and gold fount

Years have I longed for pleasant times

From the harvestry of your heart

Cursed am I to be nurtured by

The hollow of ghosts haunting realm

He who seeks shall find her

Gifts more fine than silver

Memory the crowning deed of torment

Sifts its sickle with the roar of giants