The Hermit… he stays… pure in his mind
Loathe for all, and oneself
Alone, he lives, in shadows
Over encompassing pain… he takes all burden upon himself.
In observance he acts too hasty… and furthers to learn
The end… is nothing, compared to the ages of thought
…and witness to the times.
Vilest purities is the foundation of all…
…and he, scorned from light… will walk a path with raining curses
Visions of her will black out the sun.
Broken in the abyss… the flame that breathes is no longer
What can time, truly provide…
…can it offer me, something worthy?
I am bestowed with punishment …and to who do I fucking owe?
I am the regret, I am the disappointment
On a silver platter, weighed… my heart, my soul and my loathing for this world
I will bestow your punishments …and to me… you will owe
For all that you do is unworthy… and all I have left is my heart,
my soul and my loathing for this world.
Ignoring the existence of time… yet surroundings are ever changing
The vile metamorphosis wears him down… a change, forced
Whilst he still rejecting.
Neither the world, nor he, refuses to lose… to this uphill battle
For when, will my questions be answered? Shall I have to tie this noose?
Damn you, Cursed sun! I am the tainted one! First of the last-born son!
The rights to a life, therefore accepted
There is no strength, without control
Grasped in my hands, vice-like grip
Scabbed knuckles whitening… hesitant of release.
To have vice and temptation… ever absent these simple grains of sanity
In constant paranoia, I dwell… all too slowly I feel it slipping away
All too slowly… I feel it slipping away.
Lack of grace, lack of salvation… spite for every breath
As I loosen my grip… all too slowly, I think I'm slipping away
All too slowly… I think I'm slipping away.