He leaned to me and whispered the black words
that cut like the black swords. It was the black night of our soul and my tongue was cut in two – one for me and one for him. We were the misfits forming a long snake with a black tongue that whispered the mistruths of life.
I can go on like this forever, forming phrases about “black”. To be true, that night he whispered to me Uriah Heep’s “Lady in black”.
“She came to me one morning, one lonely Sunday morning
Her long hair flowing in the mid-winter wind
I know not how she found me, for in darkness I was walking
And destruction lay around me, from a fight I could not win.”