Thorns of Ivy

From Grace to Tragedy

Thorns of Ivy


Deepest dark dreams leak through the phantasmagorian haze 
a pearl of condensed fear bedews her restless face 
those dreams that tell of crippled voices 
they always will return 
to torture, to remind 
to rage forth and to burn 

fools.. yet fools they are 
and their vanity seals the coming of the other savior 
so dulled are their senses 
but whom will they serve 
when the king of jews once fades..? 

so I sit and linger in the forests and on the glades 
..and I dream of the crippled voices 
words of pure sadness 
reach my ear to exile me into searing madness 

the infant that they once adored 
became one with their frenzy 
extolling the insidious lord 

Hypocrite cloaked with a bloodstained halo 

You told of the bliss 
The realm of heart and no dismiss 
nailed to her flesh by mans insistence 
and no chorals, no praises 
await thee christian prince 

thy reign finally ends 

You just stare and bleed 
and no comforting words leave thy lips.. 
The soil awakens from endless slumber 
and still thy slaves rape her with bliss 
as earth shatters in furious wrath 
they find themselves in awe of the abyss 

it is the oldest fever 
that comes from the depths of this endless breach 
to cleanse the world of her torturing memories 
wounded, mangled 
an image of god, once blind, now can see.. 

the repercussion of their spiteful deeds 
and a shepherd without words to lead 
They will remain for all eternity 
on the brink from grace to tragedy