The road is alight with quiet lonely deaths. And to this day, the guns we stored away show we were soldiers once, but left the battles unfought, the lessons untaught. But now we’ve brought you here, Celine. Scarred with festival wounds. And it seems like…
It’s not an easy thing to hold you close. It’s not an easy thing to hold you dear. It’s not an easy thing to lift you up, regardless. It’s not an easy thing to hold you down.
And it’s all in the fight. And it’s quite like the old men said: It’s all going to hell. Like innocence, that dumb leper who lost his bell, you’re wandering the world meaning no harm. Finding to calm. War like peace is tidy and clean at a distance. Yet still it seems like…
Hand in hand, with measured steps and slow. We take the solitary way. Earthly strong and earthly wise. Now go name your fate. Name your demise.