The Moth Gatherer
the water that we all come to need
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This broken scene of December
A place of a dead heart
Dressed up in black
As the white tiles starts to fall
The big sleep, the escape in the fog
The great fall, the great collide
The blood at the edge of the world
Is the alpha and omega
The roots of decay grows deep
Infects the water that we all come to need
Dressed up in black
As humanity starts to fall
The sorrow will not come
Eyes stares without emotion
Harbinger of empathy prevails
When the call of the final breath comes
This broken scene of past tense
Came from a dead heart
Dressed up in black
As life fades away
This broken scene of past tense
Came from a black heart
Dressed up in black
As life fades away