My father told me of this place
He told me to come here
The tales he weaved through smoke-filled black
Intricately laced with jokes and strangulation
His final words, written on the barrel of a gun
Unread and, as yet, unused
They spoke of an ancient being
That would descend and instill
Amongst us, after he was gone
Now it dwells within and, on each day that has passed
It has become more real
More real than the steady heartbeat of his ever present ghost
Is this hell my life forever
Snake, you beckon the dark
Into hell confined forever
Night, you become our mask
The days of liquid thunder
The nights of unprecedented dangers
Every sip tastes a little more like the end of time
The closing of the act
My final bow to humanity
The knots begin to fray and my silence beckons
I must speak up now
As the stage rots beneath me
I must describe the worlds we have weaved
For their loss will be our salvation
Is this hell a world we have made for ourselves?
Or is this hell our dwelling place for eternity?
Is this hell my life forever
Snake, you beckon the dark
Into hell confined forever
Night, you become our mask
Is this hell a world we have made for ourselves?
Or is this hell our dwelling place for eternity?
Only the snake can intervene
Is this hell my life forever
Snake, you beckon the dark
Into hell confined forever
Night, you become our mask
