The Wreath On The Wall

Only the deaf can hear the innocent child's cry,
For all the rest who loved to lie.
Only the silent man told her why
It would soon become her time to die

An old man soon gifts her with a burning wreath
Which holds the truth foretold by the dead beneath
A shady man grinds his teeth
As he slits her throat with a rusty sheath

All of her memories go up in flame
I suppose we shan't ever know her name
But to the rest it's all the same
While the shady man makes love to corpse of the dame

In the run-down bathroom stall,
Prophecies are written in blood-red scrawl.
They tell of what is soon to be the human downfall,
A fire started by a wreath on the wall.