| The stone walls on this hill are bleeding
|
| All of the air escapes my mouth
|
| Crushed by the weight of the ocean
|
| These nights were ours
|
| Now these bars hold no light
|
| Push the blade and turn
|
| The stone walls on this hill are bleeding
|
| All of the air escapes my mouth
|
| Churches for my kind
|
| They crawl with spears
|
| In packs to meet their charge
|
| And time seeps away like a weeping wound
|
| Tendrils of smoke crawling in my lungs
|
| My ribcage takes the weight of the flames
|
| Black blood congealing in the embers
|
| A bond is formed in the ash
|
| The trees, they become distant, they feel the longing
|
| Footprints in the marsh where life flows no more
|
| Dust on the pane where grandeur once reigned
|
| A podium of grief
|
| The sand is thinning out
|
| It’s the end of the fucking wastes
|
| I’ll take what’s rightfully mine
|
| Only passive suffering, now a fantasy
|
| Blood soaks both your eyes
|
| Your bones melted by a crystal
|
| Why can’t you understand that it’s just all gone?
|
| Why won’t you take the last piece of my body?
|
| Your abuse didn’t come cheap
|
| Home is where the knives are
|
| Crushed by the weight of the ocean
|
| These nights were ours |