Anchors

Cry of The Afflicted

Hold close your treasures.
The very measure of your value here.
Within these shining walls.
Now raise them higher.
They'll last forever if you're careful now.
If you lock them all, lock them all down.

Wrapped in your precious cloak
Spun from gold.
Useless you're reaching back dead and cold.

This weight you've trusted.
Polished and sacred has you safe, secure.
You lie in soothing sleep.
One flash it's happening
A last desperate moment.
Now the weight falls free.
But have you sunk to deep... to breathe?

Your chest is tight, held in death's embrace.
As your eyes lift up, can you see you're escape?
One flash fleeting glance, at the shine below.
One last freedom chance,
surrendered to the cold.
This useless gold
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