When has your sacred death been held inside your mind. Fear acts as anchors to tether down your lives, bound in lies.
Let this, this be your death. It never really left, it's been waiting here all along. Rape, ruinous decay we take it all the way but what is the cost, the price of our own flesh. Severed, hidden from the source like we decided to be blind.
Out of mind. At war inside and losing all the time. The poor are the shadows that change the meaning. This dead gods retribution.
To turn around the broken crown. Return once more, re-sheave the sword. This is our right to hold down the light. The serpent shows the lies God.
So if the way has been most due to the cost of war and shallow fallacies. Then faith, the crux and the cure, has been squandered savagely. Adrift sink in the deep like a mind without sleep can't really tell what's happening. So if the way has been lost due to the cost of war then face reality.
Your bodies bought and sold on markets full of blood thieving. And though the wound is old still it bleeds a potent meaning. To mark a hallowed road to indicate our deepest feeling. That if the way is lost its just means the cost is death.
What you hold within your breast, taken shape from ancient lore. Breathes the flames within your chest.
But you, you who took us from the pleasures of the flesh to finger death. When life is meant to be a glory beyond sight, beyond light.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
