Web Log, Off they Mog, Fog

love, hate
Violate fate,
Intimate

Midnight snow
Looking low,
Go.

White lace,
just a Trace
Space 

lies in bed
But instead 
Dead

Mocking us
frivolous
Lust

painted skies
Self-demise
Lies

Ending here,
Cannot steer
Fear

Somber, introspective, soft rock with beautiful music woven perfectly in it and some symphonic harmonies like sad violin