| I, the burning arrow for the other shore
|
| And seething with a callous rage
|
| A sacred object with a hollow core
|
| And actor on an empty stage
|
| We from the shadow will extend our hands
|
| And turn our gaze towards the flame
|
| The pathways darken as the poison spreads
|
| We languish in this land of waste
|
| I wish for a great mistake
|
| To carry us away
|
| And for an old beginning
|
| Where everything’s the same
|
| May this strip our minds away
|
| And lead us to our early graves;
|
| Contorted and exhausted faces
|
| Soiled and ashamed
|
| Writhe
|
| Your brittle sanctum where your madness grows
|
| A crumbling heart cursed by faith
|
| Within, our visions are like fractured glass
|
| We lick the venom from the blade
|
| The red moon rises as the black rain falls
|
| Revealing the blood upon our hands
|
| The past we harken as the gateways close
|
| Release the plague upon the lands
|
| We saw the signs
|
| And we towed the line
|
| We’re lost reflections of forgotten time
|
| Realizing, despising
|
| I wish for a great mistake
|
| To carry us away
|
| And for an old beginning
|
| Where everything’s the same
|
| May this strip our minds away
|
| And lead us to our early graves;
|
| Contorted and exhausted faces
|
| Soiled and ashamed |