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Cult of the Dead
Despite Exile
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Cult of the Dead
Death is the most precious gift we were ever to receive
We are taught to cherish it, as we are kept on a leash
Attached to the chain of ancestry, immemorial and incomplete
Death is a fact, and yet death is a matter of faith
If we didn't believe in it, how could we endure the pain?
We were given a chance
To rise above our despair
Now is the time to reinvent ourselves
We'll pay our tributes to the cult of the dead
Now is the time to reinvent ourselves
We'll pay our tributes to the cult of the dead
A legion of ghosts, to which we obey
Weighs on the brain of the living
Pulling the strings of our fate
Should we submit, or try and redeem the past?
Our forebears silently observe
Eager to see us act, for better or for worse
But it is up to us to decide how much we can endure
Gazing backwards, we move ahead, we'll let the dead bury their dead
We'll let the dead bury their dead
We were given a chance
To rise above our despair
Now is the time to reinvent ourselves
We'll pay our tributes to the cult of the dead
Now is the time to reinvent ourselves
We'll pay our tributes to the cult of the dead
Now is the time to reinvent ourselves
We'll pay our tributes to the cult of the dead
Death is the most precious gift we were ever to receive
We are taught to cherish it, as we are kept on a leash
Attached to the chain of ancestry, immemorial and incomplete
Death is a fact, and yet death is a matter of faith
If we didn't believe in it, how could we endure the pain?
We will let the dead bury their dead
We were given a chance
To rise above our despair
Now is the time to reinvent ourselves
We'll pay our tributes to the cult of the dead
Now is the time to reinvent ourselves
We'll pay our tributes to the cult of the dead
Now is the time to reinvent ourselves
We'll pay our tributes to the cult of the dead
A legion of ghosts, to which we obey
Weighs on the brain of the living
Pulling the strings of our fate (cult of the dead)
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