about
Concerning itself with the yearning for that which is lost, "Chapter 3" paints a picture of hope in the face of uncertainty.
lyrics
Hours and hours spent staring at this picture.
Waiting, always waiting for your return.
You left without thought, left in the silence of the night.
So long I've been waiting for something more.
I've found my self rooted into this concrete.
And the hostile ground that I found myself in has harboured fruits of genecide.
My skeletal branches reach out into the night,
hoping and waiting for a hint of your return.
Branches crumble into ash,
My roots have withered, went away.
Suffocating, these fruits have gone and choked me out.
This barabic feast that I have eaten is killing me and this hope of your return.
Centuries wasted away waiting and waiting for your return.
I just wanted you to stay, but these memories killed and tossed you aside.
Placing your ashes in a gilded urn, your death has turned the tide of war.
Storing these fruits away, still hoping, someday, for your return.
Like a fly caught in the spiders' web, this breath of you returns to me.
Mangled and broken, your spirit lost.
I never wanted it to end like this.
I always wanted it to end at all.
Lost in you and you in I,
I nurse you with this fruit I've wrought,
Now you and I are one and the same: withered, dead trees in a withered, dead age.
Centuries wasted away waiting and waiting for your return.
I just wanted you to stay, but these memories killed and tossed you aside.
Placing your ashes in a gilded urn, your death has turned the tide of war.
Storing these fruits away, still hoping, someday, for your return.
credits
license
all rights reserved
