Mark my grave
with a simple stick...

I can feel Him
all around me...

Through the dying embers
of innocent dreams...

As i wait, behind my door
the clash of storms...

A single flower, unique from the others,
but never noticed as yourself...

Immortal ties unto the wall
covered with fiendish thorns...

The world is a state it seems,
mindless and drifting throughout dreams...

From birth, we kneel
before the loving lord...

People with wands
of black steel...

Dear, sweet, sweet boy
you are her soul, her only joy...

Dark moor of the damned
famed, fabled, accursed place...

A wave of dream
a state in of itself...