Of Lost Desires

From this oblique matrix 
He watches the plains of life 
Silent are now the spirits 
And the things have lost their voice. 

The first born man knows and suffers. 
The dead are walking 
his heart with them. 

The memory of darkness 
Burns again 
Making him the living witness 
Of a collapsing universe. 

The first born man knows and suffers 
The dead are walking 

With hands like knives 
With hands like knives 
With hands like knives