| teach me the tongue of fire
|
| so that I may set the world ablaze
|
| for it is cold
|
| and this blindness can no longer give me shelter
|
| teach me the tongue of fire
|
| so that I may cry out loud my wrath
|
| and my passion
|
| or else my coil will blister and decay
|
| the soul is never silent
|
| but wordless
|
| held imprisoned
|
| in a cursed tomb
|
| wherein reflections never fade
|
| never die
|
| slowly maddened
|
| by the emptiness
|
| left to perish in the ever-dark coil
|
| yet, always alert it its slumber
|
| scorn by the drops of light
|
| piercing through the surface
|
| and it screams
|
| the soul is never silent
|
| but wordless
|
| teach me the tongue of fire
|
| so that I may set the world ablaze
|
| for it is cold
|
| and this blindness can no longer give me shelter
|
| teach me the tongue of fire
|
| so that I may cry out loud my wrath
|
| and my passion
|
| or else my coil will blister and decay |