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Eleutheria
Rope Sect
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The faltering consent
Is the worst denial
Under the stark belief
Hides pure disenchantment
Debonair offerings
Become the gravest guile
We scorned the mortal sins
And turned into them
We are the ruins of man
A seed of our own hell
Arise eleutheria
Our realm is moribund
The blackest ties around
The remaining ones
Worried it won't be over?
Oh, it will be over
The mirrored stone reflects
What's inside of you
Exposing liberation
In bone fragments
We are the ruins of man
A seed of our own hell
Putrid skies
Wails subside
Too late to atone
Decay has grown
Thoughts unbound
We have found
The way of letting go
That you will never know
Thoughts unbound
We have found
The way of letting go
That you will never know
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