Wandering through these grey fields of ash. Old scars reopen reflecting the color of red: reminiscent of a night that once was and shall never be again. The moon mirrors images of fates warning. Wandering through these grey fields of ash. Old scars reopen reflecting the color of red. I could be lost in the grey. A cold whisper surrounding my body blows its ice cold breath. Billowing amongst me. Showing no mercy submitting me before thee. A sweet savior enters thy mouth. It could be blood. It could be death. With nothing left to offer, I submit thy last breath until that day we await this conquest. Wandering through these grey fields of ash, old scars reopen. Reflecting the color of red: reminiscent of a night that once was and never shall be again.
