The Fantasy Itself
Anders
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I hoped we might rid all these oceans of insipid howling
I hoped we might breathe in for new sound
Divide
To find the source of melody fading
Avowed to reap such low rewards
Forward throes
Jump off if only to reach symbiotic droning
Joy can't hold me by its side
It's too late to weep for you
Sans serif, recount these terrors
No point to weep for you
Leave only lonely ghosts
I hoped we might rid all these notions of patterns in groaning
I hoped we might lay out concerted glow
Buffer - the shape of gloom
And form
Lists only pardons for the hardy, leap back
Leap back
Dissolve fall's empty promise
Chosen - such miserable
Lowly sound is lowly solace
Solely become unknown
Ripped from dry jaws of the dream
Tome stolen: foregone
The stone is forgotten
The sword is shed
Hard-worn - broke and filthy
Crossfire in hearts of doom
The tower leaves all so vulnerable
(Free fire)
While light's watching on
Return to leave the Earth
Gleaned from the sole goal
Now gone
Suffer - innocent
The challenge in shutting doors
We live by unholy hands shorn
Twilight finds doom
Darkness is blank, nothing more
Don't let this trample your view
One more step
I hoped we might slay all the products of eventual prowling
I hoped we might play out the final note
Black breath, master regret
On your doorstep and it's so enticing
Now hold me close
We find new ways born of inner solace
It's too late and they've grieved for you
(To find your world of wonder)
Too much to keep this view
Now fighting hardy twilight
How it glows