| Every End Is Fated in Its Beginning |
|---|
| Mourn the last light, its fleeting passage |
| Mourn the breaking day |
| For every breath is written |
| And every end is fated in its beginnings |
| Dwell in the ruins |
| Dormant in the empty silence |
| Beneath crepuscular rays, cold stone at your back |
| Warmth has forsaken this place |
| Dwell in the ruins |
| Dormant in the empty silence |
| When all that you are is that which you’d discard |
| When every end is fated in its beginnings |
| As your hands turn to ash, breathe on them |
| (Scattered to the nothing) |
