Tekster: Woe Of Tyrants. Threnody. Threnody.

Singing woe to me and my crimson needs,
The shallow waters warm quickly in the sun.
What a process to undivine.
The season that refuses life...
In the depths of the furthest reach
There's a hall to be found where the portraits scream.
Each reflecting the memory of a soul I've laid to waste.
A red lantern sparks a fire towards a
Doorway down the hall. Stepping into darkest keep,
Lungs constrict the chance to breathe.
The air is thick with threnody, a grief ridden hymn.
As I grasp for a comets tail, a chance for passage forth,
I fail, with the Venus'
Captivating glory out of reach.
When the stars I see fail to show me what
I seek, the collapsing nova's flare shows
Space is breathing.
The brightest of the cosmos sons can't luminate the day.
As the sun that sets allows their reign,
With power to take away.
There is a heart of all which
Beats brilliantly, unobscured.
There is a heart of all which
Beats brilliantly, unobscured...
Tumultuous pause in time, as a great void
Reinstates the growing sense of urgency.
A pause in time, this black hole
Reveals the cunning taunt of lunacy.
Oh...
Pause in time, as the great voice reinstates
The sense of lunacy.
This is when vision fails, once silent apparition.
This is when vision fails, hiding in awe.
This humbled hand won't be renounced or slapped aside,
But this forged confession will be denied.
This humbled hand won't be renounced or slapped aside,
But this confession will be denied tonight...
This is when vision fails, once silent apparition.
This is when vision fails, hiding in awe...
This humbled hand won't be renounced,
This forged confession will be denied
(denied... denied...)