|
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 |
