That which generations have sought after
Yet by no means can be found.
The very foundations of earth echo with hollow laughter.
Chills creep up my spine with every clashing sound
that reverberates high above each rafter.
No one else is worthy
The King of peace to be crowned.
Within the hearts of men
Darkness boils deep inside
As inky wells in a cavernous den
Where countless souls have died.
So finite is their time that ends in hellish glen.
No calm there is, nor will be
Until He can there abide.
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 12:04 AM UTC
That which generations have sought after
Yet by no means can be found.
The very foundations of earth echo with hollow laughter.
Chills creep up my spine with every clashing sound
that reverberates high above each rafter.
No one else is worthy
The King of peace to be crowned.
Within the hearts of men
Darkness boils deep inside
As inky wells in a cavernous den
Where countless souls have died.
So finite is their time that ends in hellish glen.
No calm there is, nor will be
Until He can there abide.
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