The Source of sorrow bears a treacherous form Morose with such a solemn look Deep disdain for those who keep Misery for what past blows they took
And so despise the countless hours where lay Some soulful feat to come what may; And trespass through the broken gates Where sorrow dwells and lies and waits.
Awaken all! Redemption's near. Bring along hope that won't borrow fear. Hypnotic realms we trespass on Seek to tatter our dreams before the dawn.
Sweet embrace of tender light, I look up to see your face; To brighten up with warm delight And leave the gloom without a trace.