We questioned the gods And the hollow earth alike And found not in the faces of men Nor in the spirits of beasts Not in the passing of restless waves Nor the narrative of the soul A place to call our own
Here on the sepulchral foothills At the end of the world That seemed to us plagued and diseased Here we found our tired feet had taken us Into the coldest night Away from the wretched creed of man Under a sunless sky Adrift in the ecstasies of apocalyptic euphoria On the heights of despair Here we came to bear witness To the graves of our failed gods
We crawl under the rubble And dig up the bodies And find not in the bones of our forebears Nor the ghosts of the past Not in omens that speak of things to come Nor the calling of great tragedy A place to escape from ourselvesTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
