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It was all true |
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A parlor strode and the night sets forever |
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I stray in the quiet cold |
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And you gird me when |
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I dare to listen |
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Elastic meadow, endless arms of sorrow |
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Lips try to form because |
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Trying to adapt to the wilderness |
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Where even foes close their eyes and leave |
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We are inside the glade |
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Every now and then |
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I wipe the dust aside |
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To remember |
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How I drape my face with my bare hands |
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The same that brought me here |
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But you were beyond all help |
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The folded message that wept my name |
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Shadows, shadows skulk at my coming |
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We survey the slope |
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We survey the slope |
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In search for the words, write the missing page |
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The tainted, the tainted, dogma, dogma |
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Time grows short |
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As the piper plays his tune |
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We are almost there |
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You are beyond all help |
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Dancing into the void |
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We are almost there |
