(no subject)
Guardians
My lord knows that i've been sinking. The sanctuary’s skin has finally been lifted. The symphony has grown silent with distaste from the grime its sound produces and its elegance in waste. ive grown blind to my eyelids they are the my guardians of naught. the sight my innards seek to dispatch is the very reason i am wrong. CALL UPON THE ALMIGHTY ONE FOR HE IS THE ONLY ONE WHO SAVES. CALL UPON THE ALMIGHTY ONE, PROTECTOR OF THE GRAVES. All you've said is now FORSAKEN. what you've come to believe is now FORSAKEN. as the wretches of this pit of heart cry we will all know that it is indeed FORSAKEN. restless in a mess of contagion strains and mismatched thought, lay the silent eyes of black heart nights eternally searching for missing parts. the tunnels lights are dim without fractions of time to think for second thoughts. sink or rise there is no swim. you live, you rise, you drink, you die. the sky emerged with the black of dusk and the scent of angels left us dust with aromas filled of conspired trust, as he could turn away from God. the words unspoken fill syringes with not blood but black eclipses of our hearts liquefied and in the image of our faith denied, beseech of the lord and beg for sight. CAN YOU SHOW ME WHAT ITS LIKE TO BE ALIVE. BY GOD, CAN YOU SHOW ME WHAT ITS LIKE TO BE ALIVE. tear it from the chest all the conflicting afflictions while it settles in the head, parasitic-like thoughts. this flawless design can never be duplicated when the cycles of the earth fold the world infinite with signs. let the truth be the prey of the faith-stricken cold and when the core is warmed up ask for the path from the lord. CAN YOU SHOW ME WHAT ITS LIKE TO BE ALIVE. CAN YOU SHOW ME WHAT ITS LIKE TO BE ALIVE. As we shed the pretense and the dawn has stained itself a place in mind, the search is unending until we finally find. Our creator. Our sustainer. In whom we always seek refuge. Our Guardian.
My lord knows that i've been sinking. The sanctuary’s skin has finally been lifted. The symphony has grown silent with distaste from the grime its sound produces and its elegance in waste. ive grown blind to my eyelids they are the my guardians of naught. the sight my innards seek to dispatch is the very reason i am wrong. CALL UPON THE ALMIGHTY ONE FOR HE IS THE ONLY ONE WHO SAVES. CALL UPON THE ALMIGHTY ONE, PROTECTOR OF THE GRAVES. All you've said is now FORSAKEN. what you've come to believe is now FORSAKEN. as the wretches of this pit of heart cry we will all know that it is indeed FORSAKEN. restless in a mess of contagion strains and mismatched thought, lay the silent eyes of black heart nights eternally searching for missing parts. the tunnels lights are dim without fractions of time to think for second thoughts. sink or rise there is no swim. you live, you rise, you drink, you die. the sky emerged with the black of dusk and the scent of angels left us dust with aromas filled of conspired trust, as he could turn away from God. the words unspoken fill syringes with not blood but black eclipses of our hearts liquefied and in the image of our faith denied, beseech of the lord and beg for sight. CAN YOU SHOW ME WHAT ITS LIKE TO BE ALIVE. BY GOD, CAN YOU SHOW ME WHAT ITS LIKE TO BE ALIVE. tear it from the chest all the conflicting afflictions while it settles in the head, parasitic-like thoughts. this flawless design can never be duplicated when the cycles of the earth fold the world infinite with signs. let the truth be the prey of the faith-stricken cold and when the core is warmed up ask for the path from the lord. CAN YOU SHOW ME WHAT ITS LIKE TO BE ALIVE. CAN YOU SHOW ME WHAT ITS LIKE TO BE ALIVE. As we shed the pretense and the dawn has stained itself a place in mind, the search is unending until we finally find. Our creator. Our sustainer. In whom we always seek refuge. Our Guardian.