Don't mind the lyrics

In mulberry mist, she walks alone,

Where camellias bloom on brittle stone.

Two shillings placed on either eye,

Waiting beneath the anthelion sky.

Her voice — a myth of limpid lullaby,

Beckoning souls where roses die.

With talons masked in dahlias red,

Combing the tomb of lovers dead.

Her vow was forged in whispered flame,

A concubine defiled by fate's game.

Refute her name, deny her cries,

And love shall rot where silence lies.