| The time has come to rise again
|
| Freedom, lift thy sewage hem
|
| Free from beasts and skewered men
|
| My dreams unroll
|
| Ten thousand fold
|
| Their world will never take me
|
| They will never desecrate my soul
|
| The stars I have grasped
|
| Are so far lonely constellations
|
| And wishing on those stars
|
| My spirit bars annihilation
|
| From earthen miseries
|
| Hosts of most fell forms of greed
|
| Ghosts of pearly gate remissions
|
| Forever haunting me
|
| Slit the witch and watch him bleed
|
| As with any inquisition
|
| Lying from the start
|
| The preachers plied their craft
|
| Scoffing elder glories
|
| And dying, I depart
|
| To make their sunken hearts
|
| A coffin for their stories
|
| The time is past to falter when
|
| Freedom slips my sombre pen
|
| And the gates to wolves break open then
|
| My feelings may seem constant prey
|
| But claws no more will rake me
|
| Those whores have fled to darker days
|
| Above and beyond
|
| I have wronged in my position
|
| But now the winds are strong
|
| To soar from Babel’s vision
|
| Of cutthroat jealousies
|
| Dock to dock, these mongrels breed
|
| Dogs of fogged derision
|
| Pacing, soon to be
|
| Back to pack mentality
|
| When my killing moon is risen
|
| Trying from the start
|
| These creatures of the dark
|
| Were quaffing morning glories
|
| And dying, I depart
|
| To make their drunken hearts
|
| A coffin for their stories
|
| Innovation in ovation
|
| Imagination stirs
|
| Somewhere the dusk is lining
|
| Red the shore of a roaring sea
|
| And though loved there, someone is pining
|
| For waves of blood to run and rescue me
|
| For waves of blood to rescue me
|
| To run and run and run and run
|
| The time has come to rise again
|
| Freedom lift thy sewage hem
|
| Free from beasts and skewered men
|
| My dreams unroll
|
| Ten thousand fold
|
| Their world will never take me
|
| They will never desecrate my soul
|
| Their world will never break me
|
| They will never desecrate my soul |