So many years to clean the slate Endless despair within its wake His touch soiling what used to be clean His gaze burning on the edge of our dreams
No more Cold pace Slow days (?)
And again he rides in It's September and he covets the gullible Skeletal wish, hunter A thousand lies Cast from the throne of secrecy
Hear him spewing forth a meaning to miserables lies See the twisted hand of doubt seal the affair The insect trust, believer Your body a vehicle to
Pearls before swine they are nothing but blind Submit to nothing and swallow my spit of scorn Invisible king, dying Procession of woe, struck down by sorrow
A burden so great Weighs heavy on old and withered beliefs The swift solution crumbles Beneath the mock notes of a masterpiece Death in his eyes, waiting Spiraling judgement, provoked in the rains
This futile test drowned in the levee of deception
In the year of his sovereign Rid us of your judgement Heir apparent
