They were the sons of silver,
Softly treading an angels web.
The last ******** of the ghost
Of winter living forever
Or so it was said.
The players of fools,
Though played from afar.
Distant and watchful
Removed from the heart.
Quick you sons of silver,
On you mercury child!
Your heart may be cold
As metal, numb against
The wilds.
Creaking in the tempest
That cries aloud and moans,
Remember you're never alone.
For they were the daughters of diamond,
Cut in the sandstorm of a bedouin desert.
A million years in the making
Forged in the torture of pressure.
Each impeccable, a priceless treasure.
But every diamond starts its life as coal.
The darkest of hearts made from the death of Old.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 10:20 PM UTC
They were the sons of silver,
Softly treading an angels web.
The last ******** of the ghost
Of winter living forever
Or so it was said.
The players of fools,
Though played from afar.
Distant and watchful
Removed from the heart.
Quick you sons of silver,
On you mercury child!
Your heart may be cold
As metal, numb against
The wilds.
Creaking in the tempest
That cries aloud and moans,
Remember you're never alone.
For they were the daughters of diamond,
Cut in the sandstorm of a bedouin desert.
A million years in the making
Forged in the torture of pressure.
Each impeccable, a priceless treasure.
But every diamond starts its life as coal.
The darkest of hearts made from the death of Old.
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