Upon the reality I can see,
of the cities that lie beneath the tethered wing
The hatred, and wickedness of the broken living of two
Here I come to bring my mind’s eye of a compromised thought
We will not,
we will not make it through

I cannot see past these words of mine,
so I’m given to the thorns
Of the gardens of the Sabbath,
and so I will fall behind
In the coil, of night’s lies, as the dark will descend
I fall under the other side

Now it will rest at the inn of imagery,
of the mind’s eye
I plea for the gloom to hear my cry to need
In a home of withering seed,
wretched in the honor of the cries
Between the grey, of the mind’s eye