The March is short, The deafening roars prolong,
It numbs the heart, It's too late for remorse,
Which side are you on?
The reaper's instrument favors no one

Let the whisper guide you
To salvation or insanity
Solace is a strange thing
It digs old bones to be replaced
Strange things await
Find old cracks in ancient ruins  
Just don't

Can you imagine me?
As a thorn in your side
Where would the pleasure be
If it always felt right

You'll be as good as dead
If you let down your guard
Hide inside your head
Making it hard to resist

Bask me with your eyes
Clench me with your fist
Drench me in your lies
Making it hard to resist

Oh I know it all too well,
The desperate search for adequate telling
Of Scent, Taste, Colors, so refined
Imagery so sublime, worthy of a waltz with the pen
But do it quick
Do it now
Before all sense of my usefullnes flutters away again
Then I'd have to cut myself
To describe pain
Since that's all I have left

I was drawn to you
Heard you're worth a thousand volts
Till' love lost its spark

Gloomy it was, that midnight
His pale countenance, wicked smile
Inevitable sweep, Wolf to Sheep

But I ran on the stony pavement, barefoot
Bathed in my unshackled hair, misty breath

I feared for my decaying soul,
But his words complete me

'You will never be afraid again
Never alone, never old
Beauty untold'

A muteness unfold,
All the words that had meaning to me
Taken from my lips

I stopped,
Wings of shadow held my waist gently,
It felt like home,
How I missed the feeling,
As I stepped into the Unknown

Voices say I should
Twist bodies to its image
Paint the night with screams