Tekster: I:Scintilla. Optics. Salt Of Stones.

Senseless steps taken blindly in agony
Grasping for something for air for purity
Words just hanging there like a hook missing bait
I have no pigment to define this shape

The notes of decay
Learned from the mouth of violence
I sang them everyday
Till I became a silence
I say that I am okay
Cut edges and pretend
That I have a heart that I can mend

The hands that used to be a part of me
Were tortured by my demons destructive needs
From pieces of ruin I will deploy
Ill construct a pretty temple to destroy

(Thanks to tubby for these lyrics)