Powerless I stand before you
The tides of shifting sands of time
Cracks, holes and empty promises
Like that writhing skin of mine
Scattered are the ashes of this momentary sigh
Held by the throat I am left on my own
Disciple of titles, I have searched for a sign
And thus I will leave no heir to the throne
In retrospect almost all that we do is a waste
Meaningless cells in a meaningless pace
Monuments of forgetfulness
Surrond me like halos of flies
Regrets that bear no fruit at all
Are all that's left before I die
Scattered are the ashes of this momentary sigh
Held by the throat I am left on my own
Disciple of titles, I have searched for a sign
And thus I will leave no heir to the throne
Suit for a king is this effort
Remained behind glass, out of sight
No one is immortal
If our work is embraced by light
Scattered are the ashes of this momentary sigh
Held by the throat I am left on my own
Disciple of titles, I have searched for a sign
And thus I will leave no heir to the throne