These Are They - By Phaeton's Design | Текст песни

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• These Are They
• By Phaeton's Design

I open my eyes to the darkness, finding it hard to adjust, vertigo raping my sences, the pain in my skull is severe.
Bones in my face are shattered, this body is beaten and torn, hand are bound behind my back, as I lay in the blood of my own.
Feeling the road beneath me, jarring my body abound, this plastic that surrounds me, restricting my movement at all.
I can hear their muffeled voices, conversing my fate, leading me to seclusion, to be dumped in a shallow grave.

I'm not ready to die.
I suffer in death by Phaeton's design.

The road has become more silent, moving on softer ground, traveling speed has lessened, the final approach is now.
Fear has overwhelmed me, causing my thoughts to run.
What will become of my family?
What have they done with my son?
The lid of my vessel is opened, and I'm dragged out on to the floor, ribs in my chest are breaking, from the beating I now endure.
My body is broken and lifeless, dropped in this shallow hole, the dirt now rains upon me and the reaper welcomes me home.

I'm not ready to die.
I suffer in death by Phaeton's design.

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