Bridge of shattered dreams, crenels and towers of iron and rust,
A sunset the color of blood,
There in the long shadow of the fortress of steel, chains long
beneath the sickle grin of the rising moon, I stand cloaked in
old regret memories of spectral sorrow.
It's strange, because I know I've been here before,
Ghosts of the past and great dark door.
So it is, cross the river, face her.