Funerary

Haunted by the spirits of the old tormented
I could have never predicted this fate for you
Adorn your robe, hang your head to the chosen one
The pain is slow, you won't cope with thy demons song
This is deep elation
Your remains burning, a gold plaque on a wooden box
Backed into a corner, I blindly lash out at the fog at my feet
I walk amongst a convoy of great mourners
Their crude lanterns; a map to the night sky
Only imagine what is happening to you out there
Limb from Limb, torn apart, wretched godless crew
Your howling there spread, it stays and eats away at my years
Your howling there spread
Burn My eyes have been shut for some time, oblivious to the splashing of tears
When is it my time to see the light, a mind wreckage of my darkest fears
My darkest fears