| Song | Dissolution Of The Forms |
| Artist | Garden of Shadows |
| Album | Oracle Moon |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Garden of Shadows | |
| The venerable one's | |
| Doctrine was crowned upon us | |
| Humanity's noontide gain... | |
| But the king was a phantasm | |
| The crown but a porous withered wreath | |
| Upon a tattered grimace | |
| Our myopic gaze | |
| Of a diaphanous tenet | |
| Occluded all thought | |
| Of solidity | |
| Encircled by the frail cannon | |
| Beset by the strength of support | |
| The confines of validity | |
| Are entrenched in rough soil | |
| Traces of the forms | |
| Dance on the wall... | |
| Unrelenting iron | |
| Sleek cold steel | |
| Clings to our wrists | |
| As a vulnerable child (To the stoic guardian) | |
| The dead weight of | |
| This permeable helmet | |
| Anchors us to the motionless rocks of chaos | |
| Reflections of fidelity | |
| Distillations of veracity | |
| Specters of substantiality (Cavort upon the wall) | |
| Must this burden | |
| Be bourne unto our backs | |
| As the world | |
| On Atlas' shoulders? | |
| If we were to lose | |
| Our grip on the globe | |
| Could we laugh | |
| As we witnessed it | |
| Crash into the stars? | |
| The explosion will shower us | |
| In the elements of experience | |
| Encumber us with the weight | |
| Of reality... | |
| Yet free us by serving as the lustrous key | |
| To our rusted manacles | |
| Traces of the forms | |
| Dance on the wall | |
| In time with flames | |
| That provide false warmth |
| zuo qu : Garden of Shadows | |
| The venerable one' s | |
| Doctrine was crowned upon us | |
| Humanity' s noontide gain... | |
| But the king was a phantasm | |
| The crown but a porous withered wreath | |
| Upon a tattered grimace | |
| Our myopic gaze | |
| Of a diaphanous tenet | |
| Occluded all thought | |
| Of solidity | |
| Encircled by the frail cannon | |
| Beset by the strength of support | |
| The confines of validity | |
| Are entrenched in rough soil | |
| Traces of the forms | |
| Dance on the wall... | |
| Unrelenting iron | |
| Sleek cold steel | |
| Clings to our wrists | |
| As a vulnerable child To the stoic guardian | |
| The dead weight of | |
| This permeable helmet | |
| Anchors us to the motionless rocks of chaos | |
| Reflections of fidelity | |
| Distillations of veracity | |
| Specters of substantiality Cavort upon the wall | |
| Must this burden | |
| Be bourne unto our backs | |
| As the world | |
| On Atlas' shoulders? | |
| If we were to lose | |
| Our grip on the globe | |
| Could we laugh | |
| As we witnessed it | |
| Crash into the stars? | |
| The explosion will shower us | |
| In the elements of experience | |
| Encumber us with the weight | |
| Of reality... | |
| Yet free us by serving as the lustrous key | |
| To our rusted manacles | |
| Traces of the forms | |
| Dance on the wall | |
| In time with flames | |
| That provide false warmth |
| zuò qǔ : Garden of Shadows | |
| The venerable one' s | |
| Doctrine was crowned upon us | |
| Humanity' s noontide gain... | |
| But the king was a phantasm | |
| The crown but a porous withered wreath | |
| Upon a tattered grimace | |
| Our myopic gaze | |
| Of a diaphanous tenet | |
| Occluded all thought | |
| Of solidity | |
| Encircled by the frail cannon | |
| Beset by the strength of support | |
| The confines of validity | |
| Are entrenched in rough soil | |
| Traces of the forms | |
| Dance on the wall... | |
| Unrelenting iron | |
| Sleek cold steel | |
| Clings to our wrists | |
| As a vulnerable child To the stoic guardian | |
| The dead weight of | |
| This permeable helmet | |
| Anchors us to the motionless rocks of chaos | |
| Reflections of fidelity | |
| Distillations of veracity | |
| Specters of substantiality Cavort upon the wall | |
| Must this burden | |
| Be bourne unto our backs | |
| As the world | |
| On Atlas' shoulders? | |
| If we were to lose | |
| Our grip on the globe | |
| Could we laugh | |
| As we witnessed it | |
| Crash into the stars? | |
| The explosion will shower us | |
| In the elements of experience | |
| Encumber us with the weight | |
| Of reality... | |
| Yet free us by serving as the lustrous key | |
| To our rusted manacles | |
| Traces of the forms | |
| Dance on the wall | |
| In time with flames | |
| That provide false warmth |