| Like the brushstroke of red paint it stabs a hole in the canvas.
|
| It’s the sweep that this the resting with fiery backs
|
| soon to be put out in the brink of a new commence.
|
| In an instant the course has curved a sudden turn.
|
| Inside these pillars of my ancestors our fate wide open.
|
| In this hollow ground where the spirits make their home…
|
| «Give me all there is to know, all the secrets to the ancient’s
|
| Grant the grace you’ve always shown, pave the ways of your sworn follower»
|
| Gloomy stares thrown around the fleeting shadow.
|
| Inhaling the herbs most sacred, I come across the holy bridge.
|
| Hours pass, my pleads repeat, yet the only voices that echo are my own.
|
| Cries of anguish rasp around my hold…
|
| «Humble teacher I ask of your guidance, present me the rightful glory»
|
| On the red sands of devotion and worship
|
| the last of the cattle lie scattered and burned.
|
| Detestful screams, infest, wiping out the inner circle.
|
| «My sons and daughters have all been spent.
|
| What more do you ask of me father?»
|
| Fire’s heat, back thick smoke, inside the now trap like haven.
|
| «I've given it all, all but one, for the slightest of wisdom’s taste…»
|
| Piercing fangs, painted skin, gashdrowned arms lie wide open.
|
| As the calm comes, I catch the sound of final beat
|
| And my soul gives in, transcending deeper into the fade. |