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World Torn Asunder
Moonshade
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A chimaera tears this world asunder
In a parasitic feast of neurotic alchemy
This tireless beast, with undying hunger
Self-proclaimed prosperity's arch enemy
Wails of suffering, so obsolete
Further bless a garden of shallow graves
Silent serpents fall at damnation's feet
Bereft to torture, by faux-kings enslaved
Abandoned in the twilight of dementia
Dreams amount to nothing as the coffins descend
A million tears might fall, but neither one nor all
Will save us from when all light comes to an end
Loneliness
Pulls me under
Leaving a
World torn asunder
For these ashes reek of the forgotten
The air itself reeks of the long forgotten
As the sands of time devour their memory
The stones of Babel tower above the fallen
For black roses are the dowry of misery
Torrents of blood, they seep through the gashes
Torn by the silence of these desperate screams
Turning both peasant and king to ashes
And mirror all my empty, darkened dreams
For we are nothing but flesh and bone
Oh misery, fruit of a Sun Dethroned
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