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Like the sound
Of Waste
Substance melts away
Smoldered crowns
Given face
Wrought all to grey
Wicked Pride
One wicked strike
To blow all down
Past grace aside
Conscious subsides
Bloodied claws come down
Desperate lies
For idles eyes
Used to cull all sounds
Of Wicked pride
Of Wicked strikes
Of these roots, blood bound.
One simple thought
Turned to a wraith
One idle glance
Forced into hate
One single ounce
To take its shape
One lost ideal
Caught at the gates
One mind distraught
Caught far too late
One foolish move
Decides a fate
One angered thought
In fallacy
One mind distraught
Caught far too late
Eyes shot with shame
Forced in the ground
A shattered faith
No longer proud
Exits the game
In sloppy blame
Hands fold around
These throats of shame
Loss is my companion in these fertile grounds.
How can hope prevail, in these cells?
Cast off pretentious misgivings
of totallity as means
to ends now falling through sieves
of self-design, in privillaged time,
to melt as wine and
blood soaked sins of kind bode unwell.
Shit stained lies
Made apparent through
Throat carved ties
Left in wonders of
hows and whys
In shadows of
Mind lapsed times
Leaving questions of
How can hope prevail, in these cells?

Lyrics was added by roman59


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