Elegiac - This Or The Apocalypse

My place lies not in that immortal sea

I am just a penance;

diurnal unbalance

A fissure is shutting off in between the song that we don’t hear

The end that we don’t feel

We will walk ever calmly in the sound of your warfare

No motion, no force

Rich beyond the wealth of kings

Of bane we know of not to witness

But in the grass that rises from the grave.

That is us

A thousand notes ring out.

That is us

The chill that is in your gut.

That is us

The acknowledgment rash in all your solitude

Is the weight of the human nature

A busy spade left unremembered in plain view, again

Alive in thoughts too deep for any tears

The silence of the spirit, a mutilated bower

We throw in vein against our very earth

The sky is bearing down

Piety in guilt

All we are is the debris

Spinning around and around, betrayed

Go and gather all we know in purest silence

Then nothing more