All The Saints Are Dead

The eyes form and follow I promise this They watch you come undone With wax upon their tongues To guard them from the burn Of all there is to learn Don’t toy with my soul Nor place me on the mantle My compass points north Of oft uncertain weight The enlightened ones Our lady of Sorrow Mourning all that is gone And given to the grave. Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints. The ghost will embark across the great sea. Atop of the night, she’s got the cutting edge. If I die, I die- I said I’d make it right and that I did. I tried to get out of the dungeon. All done with a gun. One chance to get out of the dark to be what touches you. All hands high. New era nigh. And all is golden. No quarter. It all comes down. Nourishment of Life and limb This inner space Is geometric Hit by rain Struck by fear Lay down our arms and destroy all definitions. I will show you all there is to see And all there is to come and sup I will expose your every nerve and shame The parts that simply don’t add up I know there is nothing that I can say To make you let the outside in And all that I do for you is just in vain I’ve learned that your hauntings always win. All the Saints are dead. Now they sing in the choir. When the moon is red over the sunless empire. All the ides are dead from the extinct calendar. All their eyes are red. Blood of their lord and savior. Don’t stop it Get ready. Do you hear the sound of bells That call the dead to rise? The cradle is empty now But the child still denies. Do you hear the call to war? Do you hear the call? It’s gonna cost you everything you love. Partial Fractured Memory Nurture Render Ah. The rain Will fall On sacred fire To forge New truth. Quench and temper forged in fury. I drink the wine of your disguise And taste the lie divine that was never mine. I have seen the chains of fate Dominus ex machina We chant the lines of static prayer In silicon we carve the sign of crosses that corrupt the air. And I can show you all there is to see Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints. All The Saints Are Dead. -Blegh- And I can show you all there is to see and come and sup. It all comes down. Nourishment of life and limb This inner space is geometric Hit by rain and struck by fear Lay down our arms and destroy. Dare to see what you have lost The price that faith demands For every crucifix you’ve crossed Your blood has turned to sand. And in the hourglass your time has come