I am walking on the borders
Caught within a waking sleep
There's a weight upon my shoulders
And the pinpricks at my feet
Oh these troubles they grow and they
Cloak me in the sweat of nightmares
Spend my last days on this earth
But still I fear the dreams to come with sleep
Come with sleep
In the ruined house
On the path that leads straight down
Wake to find an arm of scars
And a sigil on the ground
There is no light left in breathless sleep
But these waking hours are too much for me
Feel the muscles heavy on my frame
And the fear of dreams that come again
Mud caked clothes like a shroud,
Fists digging in through the sweat of fear.
Light fades, night is bearing down.
Soon the apparitions will appear.
In the ruined house
On the cliffs that lead straight down
Wake to find a night of stars
And a sigil on the ground
Pull back the teeth are coming loose
Red salt and thick wet breathing
And the roots stare into open air
And the open nerves are screaming
Trapped within these rags
Smoke it fills the senses
Amid the rocks and crags
Here we shall gather
In the ruined house
Crouching in the corner
Slip through shifting soil
Down to the lost caverns
There's no light in breathless sleep,
Waking hours too much for me,
Feel the muscles on my frame
Fits and crags and boulders
There's a weight upon my shoulders, oh these troubles.
Lucid dreams so frequent now
Get through being awake somehow
Living gates to distant shores
We will sing this sermon now
On the cliffs that lead straight down
Waiting for the visions that will follow
Found within these halls
The skeletons of dogs
Climb the spectral wall
Here I am legion
Count the days in bones
On shifting sands alone
Death and life and waking
Locked in eternal struggle
I am walking on the borders
Wide awake but still I
Fear the dreams to come
Wrapped in rags that smell of smoke
Above the stinking ground below
Wisps like voices float around me
Falling into darkness now
Waking in the ruined house
Between the living and the dead
We will sing this sermon now
On the path that lead straight down
Waiting for the visions that will follow
You see my eyes, red and bloodied from the sunrise
Skin cracked and peeling, dried tongues revealing
I stand with my feet upon this wasteland
Where is it I've woken? Forget the words I've spoken
It's a gift from the skies to be living in these end times
Show them what you're made of
What are you afraid of?
Afraid of?
