The Sands of Nightly Sin

The Dreamer dreams perennially,
Besought in the ashes of his sojourn,
He takes a penchant for remorse,
Firmer than he still believes,
Of nightly washes in gardens bright,
He descents into its fervent depths,
Sobbing not at his shattered wiles,
But laughing at his own defeat,
The dreamer descents perennially,
Each night deeper still,
A elusive thought hoping to regain,
He dances at the devil's door,
Of trances and furtive glances,
He slowly but certainly emerges,
Murdered of all human urges,
He cries at his own funeral,
The dreamer dreams every night,
With sullen songs of his blight,
Sobbing tears now drench his skin,
Washing the sands of nightly sin.