We cast our bodies to the ground In expectation we waited with breath all but baited In the slowness of evening’s decline ‘Found ourselves as the motives The victims of hatred and spite
The cogs that turn your design A wretched tourniquet Corruption seeps from the wound
Stand your ground in this misdirection And through the wasted ages a fire rages Stand your ground in this disaffection Free from the bonds and cages, a fire rages
You got the best of me, I’ll take what’s left of you You got the best of me but I can see right through your disguise You got the best of me, they’ll find what’s left of you You got the best of me, what’s left of me is haunting you
Within the quickening heat our veins align with the beat The smoky silhouette of what we were before the defeat Smothered in lines that you fed, bathed in the blood that we bled The wake we leave behind: a catalyst to stand your ground
Weakness affording power harbored in the sands of disbelief Clutching the shadows of Europa A distant memory of what we were before the defeat The Faceless Alchemist we hoped for