She has a flower garland in her hair,
Whose petals flit about in the frosty air.
She lies within her tomb,
With pictures encasing it, telling all of her doom.
Her lover stands beside her with roses in his hand.
His eyes are swollen and red, and he is so weak from crying that he can
barely stand.
He looks upon her pale beautiful face for the last time,
Wishing she would open her eyes, which would be so sublime.
They close off her tomb, leaving her alone forever.
As they closed the lid, keeping her in the dark, it was her last link with
life that they did sever.
When they uncovered her grave, fifty years later, they found claw marks on
her tomb,
And as they peered closer, they could see her face fixed in an agonized
scream within the gloom.
Didn't they know that she wasn't yet dead?
They look at her now and their hearts fill with dread.
They killed their beautiful love,
Sending her to a grizzly death above.
Upon her face, there will ever be fixed her scream as she clawed at her
tomb, trying to get out.
She tried to claw her way to the surface leaving her gasping for air, which
they had left her without.
Her once beautiful face is now transfigured and grotesque,
It brings tears to their eyes as they all gather around, she had once be so
statuesque.
They have reduced her to a fixed state of silence, leaving her to her
appointed place in hell,
As it shows in claw marks, on her ever darkening cell.
 
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