To whatever we commit, may they die in darkness;
So deep and too black for heaven's eye to ever find us.

To the sound of our guilt, may we bury it in the ground,
or to be flung into space, where it will not make a sound.
And the minds of the curious, may they never take chase,
to preserve a hero's honesty: A life without a face.

"And all this plight in the name of family?"
What else could more earn a savage's loyalty?

The perfect thing to make us into beasts,
guided alone by the thirst to eat,
but in us, a hunger to ever make right
all things we see wrong that hides in the light.

While we hold in the darkness, waiting for their call,
to forsaken our soul, lest we watch them all fall.