1. |
Wax Caskets
05:04
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What a tangled web we weave
Through our chosen reality
Slaves to spiritual atonality
Wholly unaware we're dying
The tragedy, that therein lies the beauty of a chaotic scheme
To die having lived, having dreamed
Life is not the wretched beast
Or that which leaves a bitter taste
It is a game of choice,
An opportunity we ought not waste
As it molds into its determined shape
It will illuminate new paths to take
A candle often burned in such great haste,
To behold the wick is not the aim
And yet we stoke the flame, (it) voraciously consumes
While we shift the blame
Our passive eyes behold the burning wick;
We watch it burn away
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2. |
The Burning Wick
01:10
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3. |
The Spectral Hand
07:43
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Outstretched fingers they grasp at fleeting straws
And their palms bleeding from the desperate prayer
Red and raw, archaic psalms
No other act so wholly mars the progression
The candle burns, will you seize the day
Before the wax fully melts away?
Ethereal phantoms, leading wayward souls astray
Into the darkness,
Ghosts beckon sweetly
Will this adversity
Rise to meet me?
My plea for guidance by silence is met
How can we be expected to thrive begging on our knees?
Through strife this picture becomes plain to see;
Enliven the shell, transcendence from hell
Like the leaves, our souls must wilt
Crumbling over foundations of guilt
We knew it would never last
We are transcendent, more than this
Shall I bring us peace?
Can I, will I, shall I survive?
Like the leaves, our souls now wilt
Crumbling under foundations of guilt
We knew it could never last;
We are transcendent, more than this
Can I, will I, shall I survive?
This established moral code bears a load I cannot host
Can I, will I, shall I survive?
We fear the spectral hand,
The lines, its fingers in the sand
That hand is not your maker;
Those lines do not apply
Cease to glean your guidance from the phantoms of the sky
We alone can craft a world in which our kind may thrive
You and I won't glean our guidance
From the phantoms of the sky
We alone can craft a world in which our kind may thrive
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4. |
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Looking back over my shoulder,
This becomes plain to see:
I've been wasting away
Had I been aware, would I have dodged despair?
You carve your own tombstone.
Reverse-engineered perspective.
Leave fear behind
Don't shy from life
You'll find your light
Buried deep inside
Solemnly unfaltering
Grasping for autonomy
Can I, will I, shall I survive?
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