I Will Be Free, No

O Ruthless, Perilous, Imperious Hate, You Can Not Thwart The Promptings Of My Soul.

Luminous, Unfearful; High-priestesses, Our Fervour Shall Banish All Evil.

The Quivering Of Psyche's Butterflies.

No One Knows, The Heart Of A Child, How It Grows Until It Is Too Late.

Long Hours Trail In Their Purple And Long Years Are Lost In Just This Moment While Our Souls Are Near, Our Mouths Separate.