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countless mounds disturb the soil

as the sun sets on our graves

there will be no more

no more days

no more days to mourn

those who stayed

fells like centuries

I remember them all

I can hear their voices

like a supplicant's call

leave me now

the storm won't abate

seemingly endless

we are all standing

on the grave of the lambs

I can count no more

no more days

days in mouring lost

no more days

we have lost those things

things which we have wrought

we will hear their voices

like a supplicant's call

leave me now

the storm won't abate

seemingly endless

we are all standing

on the grave of the lambs

joined in condemnation

in utter desolation

inculcate

with obscene perfidy

but nothing can erase

the memory of those we've come to mourn

here we stand

on the grave of the lambs

all of us

it was always all of us

we cast their bones into the ground

it was always all of us

on the grave of the lambs