Tis pain the clarity of ruin
And a soul that is laid to waste
A march of things forever broken
Laid bare between shards of faith
Broken beings recognise its like
Drawn to them like moths to light
What blocks the gears, the geares from turning
What lies in sparks, what gathers dust
(broken) broken...
To heal what once was broken
To sprint the gauntlet of its inner workings
To pick oneself apart
To free the head and heal the heart
Far few do breach this end of state
Gaze upon its law of faith
Condemned by those who fear its sight
Who would pray for dusk in the dead of night
I hold no stake here
I will be washed away
I hold no stake here
A heretic does not pray
So strike the light from my eyes
It is all of you who dim
Bound by shackles of faithful`s light
Praying for dusk in the dead of night
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