5: White

Ceremonial rings

Belial brings

To cleanse your soul anew,

We dry the root

Imperial fruit,

Where no tree ever grew.

Been all betrayed,

Have been delayed

The mask is hidden within;

We whisper now

Our evening vow,

Forgotten in our sin.

Turned into gold

That withered old

Despairing tale of luck,

The rest of kin

Bow down their chin,

Imitate a mindless bug.

A break and a snap

A twirl and a chap

The flower went away;

So white and pure

All gone for sure

Hidden night and day.