From beast to beast; ash to ash
Forming lost words from recess, Sunken into the abyss
Contradicting what you know to be true
The lies are made of tears, falling kindly on her shoulder.
Fret not, thy beautiful rain maker
Worry not, for the pleasure is mine
To comfort and support the making of your diamonds
You may be unwell but

It’s my job to care for the deprived
Be to the distance as the distance did to you
Stay strangled from the world, taking homage for its sins
Live in the shadows of your own heart
Fret not, for thine is a beauty lost
Worry not, for you can simply live
To grade and perform unlike others
You may be unwell but

From daemon to daemon; crust to crust
Forming time into your mind, buried in the sand
Controversial to those deeds forced upon you
The lies are made of tears, dropping Heaven onto her shoulders.