Awaken saints with tattered robes, do his work around the globe, I feel your presence even now, as sweat upon my furrowed brow, atone for birth and wretched life, but absolution has a price, so lead the flock I'd expect no less, though all must pay your wage in flesh

Bend a wave of light from the summer sun, and then smash it on the ground into tiny bits, a kaleidoscopic creature known as none, is gone and not one around you even stopped to notice it

I used to give
the wrong people
the right pieces
of me...

somewhere in the breeze
a violin is playing
the saddest of songs