Rest your tired eyes
Your paradise is lost
The foreign breath of lies swollen in the gut
You can’t break free
You can’t break free from it all
I know somewhere for roaming vagabonds
Stolen from their homeland and tossed upon the street like fallen stones
To meet their fate
Stretched across the hearth of flame
I saw the flesh get torn away
It came and went
I winced but I could not hide my eyes from the pain
He criеd
Where’d you go?
Come drink from this cup of gold shеpherd’s wine
And step into this herd of frail and godless men or go to hell and die
There are two paths in which you take
One’s back there with the zealot’s faith
I can’t say which one is best but if you don’t choose right you’re burning next
I widen my eyes towards the flame
To be tossed aside, cracked and crystallized like fallen stones
And father when I go to sleep I can still hear the screams and coals hissing
Questioning your inquisition
Is this crusade my punishment or yours?
I wonder
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