She's pale like death or moonstars... br I wonder if she was born of dark or light? br They call her Winter... br Becuase her kiss will be your last. br br And I survived and tasted another. br 'Stupid girl, ' she snarled. 'I am Absinthe.' br br I staggered back, dead inside, br Reeling from the reality of your br Hate br And I wonder...