Atrophy

There’s a wolf amounst us
He wears my face
Finding solace
In the most fitting place
Lake bound lady
Do you enjoy my company
As we swim
Beneathe the tide
With even syetry
What lies beneathe
Our tales of sarrow
Take this chance
For tomarrow…
A cold wind
Smooths the surface
A half-life becomes a race
Removes all perception
Invoking as altered states
We hold to form
The cure and its disease
As we swim
Beneathe the tide
With even symetry
What lies beneathe
Our tales of sarrow
Take this chance
For tomarrow…
There’s a wolf
Amounst us
He wears my face
Finding
Solace
Without a trace
What lies beneathe
Our tales of sarrow
Take this chance
For tomarrow…