What is familiar to us we hold most dear
The dying warmth in the fireplace that was our love
Oh how quickly we forget to add the kindling
To soon does the light fade on either side of your nose
Still you look into the night, searching
For that which you know, but have never had
You grasp for life with your barren hands
Yet it slips through your fingers as if it was made of water
For the flow of life is fickle and who can know it's course
Silent and serpentine these dreams pass
Through my sheets and on into the night
What poor unfortunate sinner do they seek next
I am all I have ever said, and I do not speak well of the dead
Your words are knives pulled from a mouth of swords
Your eyes are fire pulled from hells firy columns
Still you light my way, I am a fool to follow
But this is familiar, to my old soul
She who has scorned you, still calls your name
Never should she have even know it, but fools live and die
You must not answer, still you do,
but fools live and die
For you long for what is familiar to you
She  will follow, with the lust of her hands
To seek us in a place that no man knows
For where can that be, is it the garden
From whence God cast his children
Is it the sky, where Orion was scythed by his children
Or still yet the dessert where no water is found
Still now I see it, yet I do not know
For is it where none can ever go
Is is your heart , within your self
You live there, and die there, and can never get out
For you know this place, but do not even know yourself