Ghosts of porcelain waste
The innocence in faith
Through translucent eyes
In shifting shades of pale upon pale
Writhing across the neverwhere
Haunting reflections of the mirrored void
Is this the end of everything we love?
The wounds of life weaving the loom
Dwellers in the deep worlds entombed
Of all the fragile, their desolate veins
Ravenous hearts, euphoric suffering
Poison of the well, where the black tongues sing
Intra venus quickens
A curse of life
Bequeathed, gorging sanguine like cancer
They prey for blood, wretched are the gods
For the stillborn suns of never
They are the severed
The lifeline to end forever
Lanced, earthen flesh of enslavement intravenous
Descending liquid shadows, all entwining
Their distant sights weaving the loom
Dwellers in the deep drift below
To the ferryman's drains
Seek a cure for the pain
The end of all we love and lust
In tainted flesh of doubt and corruption
Is it too late? Will death be my lover?
Will death be my lover?
And into ribs, crib, cradled, caressed
A moment between black talons, blessed
Consciousness, a breath, regret
Clarity come forth, is there salvation?
Haunting reflections of the mirrored void
Is this the end of everything we love?
Wounds of life wield the strength to rise
Dwellers in the deep, dream of hope, only hope
(The end of everything we love)
(The end of everything we love)
