I am walking on the borders Caught within a waking sleep There's a weight upon my shoulders And the pinpricks at my feet Oh these troubles they grow and they Cloak me in the sweat of nightmares Spend my last days on this earth But still I fear the dreams to come with sleep Come with sleep
In the ruined house On the path that leads straight down Wake to find an arm of scars And a sigil on the ground
There is no light left in breathless sleep But these waking hours are too much for me Feel the muscles heavy on my frame And the fear of dreams that come again
Mud caked clothes like a shroud, Fists digging in through the sweat of fear. Light fades, night is bearing down. Soon the apparitions will appear.
In the ruined house On the cliffs that lead straight down Wake to find a night of stars And a sigil on the ground
Pull back the teeth are coming loose Red salt and thick wet breathing And the roots stare into open air And the open nerves are screaming
Trapped within these rags Smoke it fills the senses Amid the rocks and crags Here we shall gather
In the ruined house Crouching in the corner Slip through shifting soil Down to the lost caverns
There's no light in breathless sleep, Waking hours too much for me, Feel the muscles on my frame
Fits and crags and boulders There's a weight upon my shoulders, oh these troubles.
Lucid dreams so frequent now Get through being awake somehow Living gates to distant shores
We will sing this sermon now On the cliffs that lead straight down Waiting for the visions that will follow
Found within these halls The skeletons of dogs Climb the spectral wall Here I am legion
Count the days in bones On shifting sands alone Death and life and waking Locked in eternal struggle
I am walking on the borders Wide awake but still I Fear the dreams to come
Wrapped in rags that smell of smoke Above the stinking ground below Wisps like voices float around me
Falling into darkness now Waking in the ruined house Between the living and the dead
We will sing this sermon now On the path that lead straight down Waiting for the visions that will follow
You see my eyes, red and bloodied from the sunrise Skin cracked and peeling, dried tongues revealing I stand with my feet upon this wasteland Where is it I've woken? Forget the words I've spoken It's a gift from the skies to be living in these end times Show them what you're made of What are you afraid of? Afraid of?Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
