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Nontheistic Mysticism
Pulsations
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In your mind I die
And I failed to realise
That in my death you search
For the answers to your own demise
Although I want to believe the ascension is real
There is nothing in you divine
Finally keen to accept your policy
If you command me to give up
Orators are exiled
They lie sick in distant lands
Our strongest throats are choked
With blood and tears from the past
Were all our efforts in vain?
Futile
Yet every now and then
The hope of the righteous men
Rushes through our veins
Claim the prophets of today
Wings of a dove
Carry me home
To face the ferocity of your kind
Wings of a dove
Carry me home
Shake your feathers
Over my tomb
And cover it with your decline
In your heart I die
And I failed to realise
That in my death you search
For the answers to your own demise
Although I want to believe you will come for me
There is nothing in you divine
Finally keen to accept your policy
You command me to give up
Wings of a dove
Carry me home
To face the ferocity of your kind
Wings of a dove
Carry me home
Shake your feathers
Over my tomb
And cover it with your decline
Crawling out of a hell
The storms begin
An overdose of reality
Crawling out of a hell
The storms begin
It hurts to be aware
That you no longer care
But the manifesto is always there
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