| The ruins shall bear witness to what I’ve become
|
| Damned by the riddles of shame
|
| Now they lower me down into the mouth of flames
|
| The disease now lives again
|
| So the thorn has grown since then
|
| Animation of disgrace
|
| From the years when I had a face
|
| Long lost pictures come to life once more
|
| The sewers of yesterday spreads its breath into this dream
|
| The smell of dying colors, and illusions that bleed
|
| The threads are all wearing thin
|
| But still they let no sunshine in
|
| Desolation comes alone
|
| As the skin falls from our bones
|
| Oblivion lies safe within these hands
|
| A hangman shadow resting upon my back
|
| Imprisonment — a godly state of being
|
| Where time is merely a word existing in past tense
|
| Feed the hole and welcome to my wound
|
| Down the void of perception a shallow vision streams
|
| Reality brings deception and dust of past dreams
|
| The witness of my ruin came to follow me
|
| The riddles soon perished in shame
|
| As they lowered him down into the mouth of flames
|
| The hunger claws inside
|
| My innocence went with the tide
|
| Served the agents of decay
|
| Now watch impurity wash away |