We cast our bodies to the ground
In expectation we waited with breath all but baited
In the slowness of evening’s decline
‘Found ourselves as the motives
The victims of hatred and spite
The cogs that turn your design
A wretched tourniquet
Corruption seeps from the wound
Stand your ground in this misdirection
And through the wasted ages a fire rages
Stand your ground in this disaffection
Free from the bonds and cages, a fire rages
You got the best of me, I’ll take what’s left of you
You got the best of me but I can see right through your disguise
You got the best of me, they’ll find what’s left of you
You got the best of me, what’s left of me is haunting you
Within the quickening heat our veins align with the beat
The smoky silhouette of what we were before the defeat
Smothered in lines that you fed, bathed in the blood that we bled
The wake we leave behind: a catalyst to stand your ground
Weakness affording power harbored in the sands of disbelief
Clutching the shadows of Europa
A distant memory of what we were before the defeat
The Faceless Alchemist we hoped for
Stand.
