You remind me of someone from a half remembered dream,
A silhouette from an epoch
That I have journeyed through fleetingly.
And then beside these sempiternal embers
I indulge in a pestilenntial reminisce,
Of the antiquated aeon of camaraderie
When the befuddlement inundates my anima like a swinging ragde.
I have been spooring thy sigil,
Through this deranged tourney of metampsychosis,
Only to be impelled by your unequivocal,
Benightedness surrounding my subsistence.

Turn the page,
And let me read something new
For now my innocence is torn
With no one wearing their real faces
Rudiments of utopian vandalism is born,

And I still hope,
That you'll seek me at the end of the night
And I still hope,
That you'll take away my reasons to fight,
Beyond the horizon.

Give me a blade to cut my wings,
Voluntary armament is the road to peace
Stacking up grave upon graves,
My emotions seek,
Trenches as their niche

And I still hope,
That you'll encase your arms around my neck,
When my back is against the wall
And I still know,
That you'll throw me away when the messengers bring, messages of war.