A blur of troublesome sights exhausting,
The dark side of what it is to dream.
Rest that I wish I never needed,
A task, a hurdle that racks the mind.
I love the night but not the visions,
Not the apparitions,
A thousand times I'll ne'er do well,
And my weakness is always at the centre.
Oh! if you could see these scenes,
Each trait insufferable,
Inability displayed a thousand ways,
My inability displayed a thousand ways!
The sun grows the lie in my every word,
A shadowed husk swathed in saccharine cloth,
The years have seen to it that the mask won't slip.
But the moon sees the mind stripped naked,
The pleasing veil gone and what is, remains.
What it is to hate to sleep.
Nezařazené v albu
- Like Smoke into Fog
- Fire Sermon
- The Abyssal Plain
- Future Perfect Conditiona..
- Emptiness Beneath the Gre..
- A Litany to Cowards
- The Ceaseless Arbitrary C..
- Held in a Lunar Synthesis
- Strike Again the Hammer S..
- A Thought, Ablaze
- To All, To All, To All!
- 1. A Thought, Ablaze
- 2. Strike Again the Hammer S..
- 3. Held in a Lunar Synthesis
- 4. The Ceaseless Arbitrary C..
- 5. To All, To All, To All!
- 6. The Abyssal Plain
- 7. Like Smoke into Fog
- 8. Future Perfect Conditiona..
- 9. Fire Sermon
- 10. A Litany to Cowards