Transition
A feeling that has been casted away,
Taking no shape but its own as it drifts along the way,
Daring and bold to face the advent of its own folly,
Foiling none but it's own single-witted desires.
The trumpet blows and the world falls,
But even so the metal stains on his heart
Will not be so easily sheared away
Because it doesn't know they're really there.
It functions universally and extends itself over,
Trying to fill the inner void with something yet fails,
Because the light is too far to be seen now,
And all it has is itself to tend for.
It struggles, it faulters, it smiles,
The creature of unimaginable thoughts,
Making the soiled faces of the ground its own,
Trying to give itself a purpose,
An Impressionable fixation,
By using the twisted faces of the Ruin Folk.
It continues to chase away at its identity,
As the heavy beats of the butterfly wings
Symbolize that the covenant will soon break away,
But in spite of the doom and gloom,
The darkness that spills and permeates from within,
Will one day cease to exist of this guilty conscience,
Submering the creature known as Man to its Revelation:
There is Hope to be Found in the Most Gruesome of Times.
Many think it shall depart away,
The missing piece of light known as Hope,
But life as we know it couldn't exist for Man,
If it had no feelings but its own to rely on,
And still the inner void strikes at his soul,
Clanking with its chains and scythe,
The heavy pound of reality breaking through,
But IT burns again within him.
No Really,
It does continue to burn,
The light that slew a thousand fell monsters,
In a single swipe of its maganmious burst,
And one day it will atone for what Man has done,
And guide it to its personal Eden...