I’m a frail, artsy palace prince, crimson sheets
I’m don of the halls, but light stepped, red carpet
I’m a figure lurking behind stained glass, velvet curtain
I’m a nighttime stroll, among shadowy colonnades
I’m an odd hour of the night, a wraith in red furs
I’m the longsword, lit by my candlebrum
I’m a hidden authority, God’s black glove
I’m a golden quill, kidnapping spirits at midnight
I’m trembling hands, sickpale.