The eyes, the eyes, the eyes;
They glint with evil vehemence.
Slivers of sapphire, emerald, rubies, diamond.
Trophies that the soul catcher collects,
hung upon the yonder wall.
His own eyes gouged out,
his soul is black and dead like,
the blackness of his eyes.
The soul catcher laughs
and pulls a woman’s eyes from her head.
The eyes aren’t just the windows to the soul, they’re the doors too.
Is what the soul catcher said.
Into the hall of the dead,
that young woman’s soul will fall.
And her eyes will become merely slivers of amber.
Hung upon that yonder wall.