Of Lost Desires

From this oblique matrix
He watches the plains of life
Silent are now the spirits
And the things have lost their voice

The first born man
Knows and suffers
The dead are walking
His heart with them

The memory of darkness
Burns again
Making him the living witness
Of a collapsing universe

The first born man
Knows and suffers
The dead are walking
With hands like knives
With hands like knives
With hands like knives