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For the Ones who look at the skies

May miss the danger in front of them.

I was a dreamer, whispering to the stars,

Without getting any answers.

As I nourished the hunger of the well,

With meaningless illusions.

And you were also bathed in your own lies.

I would like to tighten your throat,

Keep you below the waves of denial

Until your last spark goes out

And the turmoil stops.

Will we ever realize

That every prayer hides a curse?

A bottle thrown into an ocean of vanity

Thinking that our problems deserve to be solved

Without poisoning others’ chalices.

I would like to tighten your throat,

Keep you below the waves of denial

Until your last spark goes out

And the turmoil stops.

When the swords of the headless angels,

Who come upon the Earth in a ghostly procession,

Will afflict the fundaments of our shrines,

Will we be able to accept our defeat?

Will we see a wise radiance behind the curtains of grief?

Or will we sink, blind again,

Into the streams of deception and delusion

While singing some insane, meaningless and empty litanies?

The witches aren’t dancing around the fires anymore.

A mysterious peril hides, needing no spell,

Standing against a self-destroying tribe.