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Haunted by the spirits of the old tormented

I could have never predicted this fate for you

Adorn your robe, hang your head to the chosen one

The pain is slow, you won't cope with thy demons song

This is deep elation

Your remains burning, a gold plaque on a wooden box

Backed into a corner, I blindly lash out at the fog at my feet

I walk amongst a convoy of great mourners

Their crude lanterns; a map to the night sky

Only imagine what is happening to you out there

Limb from Limb, torn apart, wretched godless crew

Your howling there spread, it stays and eats away at my years

Your howling there spread

Burn

My eyes have been shut for some time, oblivious to the splashing of tears

When is it my time to see the light, a mind wreckage of my darkest fears

My darkest fears