Of Beasts and Worms

Whispering wood where emptiness stirs,
where the eyes of the sun dare not linger,
where a cloister of silhouette shapes emerge
and feast on the bodies of beasts and worms.

This is the place where I rest my bones
and the river that cleanses me runs alone.

To be there again where my spirit longs
and sleep in the soil forevermore.

Under the sky where the moon is scarred -
marred by the clouds, the shapes of gods
and devils that spirit away to the souls
to harness the power of grief and woe.
Turning away to the mist and the fog
pulling my spirit away from the bogs

Far from the whispers of bustling streets
concert of angels is buried beneath
myriad monoliths stuck in the soil
smoldering death from the sewers below

This is the place where I rest my bones
and the river that cleanses me runs alone
to be there where my spirit longs
and sleep in soil forevermore.

Ragged and weary, awake - trembling
from the snap in the air as the shivering breeze
mimics the frailty escaping from these
whimpering lungs that can barely breathe.
Dreams that have carried me vanish away -
the mist, long arisen, painted in gray.

Far from the whispers of bustling streets
concert of angels is buried beneath.
Landscapes that once held a permanent place
rescind into darkness where they will remain

This is the place where I rest my bones
and the river that cleanses me runs alone
to be there again where my spirit longs
and sleep in soil forevermore

The skin is stripped from tender vessels
clawing and crying out, wholly aware
of the dawn encroaching bringing with it the pain

of facing another day...
The pain of waking
and facing another day;
this pain is never ending.

This is the place where I rest my bones
and the river that cleanses me runs alone
to be there again where my spirit longs
and sleep in soil forevermore.

This is the place where I lost my bones
in the river that cleansed me.
To be there where my spirit has grown
and sleep forever.

((Guitar solo 1: Greg))
((Guitar solo 2: Michael))