Opeth

By the turnstile beckons a damsel fair
The face of Melinda neath blackened hair
No joy would flicker in her eyes
Brooding sadness came to a rise
Words would falter to atone
Failure had passed the stepping stone
She had sworn her vows to another
This is when no-one will bother
And conceded pain in crumbling mirth
A harlot of God upon the earth
Found where she sacrificed her ways
That hollow love in her face