Album: The Ways of Old
Time is genocide
Of all my dreams
With age and wisdom
I now abort them
To alleviate their birth pain
Too many seeds planted
Too little harvest to show
My ambitions withered
My spirit broke
With each new day
I lament the rising sun
It's golden light a beacon
For the death of yesterday
Dusk brings mourning
Buried in darkness
It's ghosts will haunt me
With all that is left in shade
I will seek to bear witness
To days without names
Taste the blood of a savior
Living water flowing
From a ne'er ending stream
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