Lyrics An Evening With Morning Star (Act. II) - I, Omega

An Evening With Morning Star (Act. II)

The executed have all moved on
still I struggle in a shallow grave
screaming at the impotent that
put me here
I am not whole
from watching the soil spread
solemn faces
the earth embraces
each grain represents every bit of doubt that spills out of me
I’m choking on the words that can’t be released
only rough skin remains
where my mouth used to be
it was condemned all the goddamn years ago when I still had pride
call it off, call it off I have nothing to say
If this body’s just a coffin I will choose when it lays
We’re all just dying to plot our graves
serving ourselves a bit of grace on our own terms
ignoring what we’ve learned
waste not what you’ve earned
I pray more than the faithful
repent more than atoned
I’ve been deemed a skeptic by every atheist I know
yet I still can’t find meaning in this world
I mourn him as he won’t find worth
eight eyes radiate desires of four hearts ever calling out two shoulders hold
up the one burden they couldn’t help
call it off, call it off I have nothing to say
If this body’s just a coffin I will choose when it lays
We’re all just dying to plot our graves
serving ourselves a bit of grace on our own terms
ignoring what we’ve learned
waste not what you’ve earned
burning up burning up there’s a fire in me
from a devil on my shoulder that seeks empathy
protect the sinner fuck the saint
not finding peace just disdain
how can you say we’re meant to be this way
when you’re living in an hourglass and you can’t seem to find the time to change
I refuse to go quietly
if I’m going to hell at least that means you’re in heaven holding her head and
making excuses for a father who couldn’t
when I die I hope you see them picketing my funeral
screaming at the top of their lungs
at least then you’ll know that they make the world a bitter place
I left the world a better place to call home
call it off, call it off I have nothing to say
If this body’s just a coffin I will choose when it lays
We’re all just dying to plot our graves
serving ourselves a bit of grace on our own terms
ignoring what we’ve learned
waste not what you’ve earned
burning up burning up there’s a fire in me
from a devil on my shoulder that seeks empathy
protect the sinner fuck the saint
not finding peace just disdain
how can you say we’re meant to be this way
when you’re living in an hourglass and you can’t seem to find the time to
change.