| So salvation here runs the flood
|
| Here dies the love
|
| The banner of the ungranted
|
| And our darkest days
|
| The feelings that were forced
|
| Out of fear without a drop of remorse
|
| Now that the pain is released
|
| With cryptic seals and signs
|
| Running over heartstrings wretched and run dry
|
| When the feathered begin to fall
|
| With a voice like glass
|
| Born to splint and shatter
|
| The touch of sunlight
|
| Like heavens plague, the birth of black
|
| With hung halos of wrath and decay
|
| The furthest of faith, the Rider of Plagues
|
| Our hands have reached thin of skin
|
| Sifted straight to bone
|
| Bare and broken as the inventors hope
|
| Unseen by the believed
|
| Unbelieved by all who see
|
| So when you become every dream abhorred
|
| A being so bitter not worth the weight of ice in his words
|
| With a voice like glass
|
| Born to splint and shatter
|
| The touch of sunlight
|
| Like heavens plague, the birth of black
|
| With hung halos of wrath and decay
|
| The furthest of faith, the Rider of Plagues
|
| With a voice just like glass
|
| Born to splint and born to shatter
|
| The touch of sunlight
|
| Like heavens plague, the birth of black
|
| With hung halos of wrath and decay
|
| The furthest of faith, the Rider of Plagues |