Content to lay amongst the slurry
It irrigates your veins
A gallery of bones and lost intentions
Your words will fail where broadswords sing
Down the dark decades of your pain
This will seem like a memory never had
Our name will be written on a thousand walls
Your world has drowned, run aground
Now your name gathers only moss
It's a waste of good suffering
Your time in the sun has bled you dry, now a faint echo
Turn up the volume, but only hear the sound of razors through flesh
A fertile ground only for torment, you never reaped what was sewn