The 8th Day: Mourning

«Draw the curtains
It’s time to sleep
Everything is not as it seems
Silent hands of winter winds
Are drawing near…
Fold the tension slowly
Wait beneath the tear
The tarnished gold
Through the window pain
Lies dead upon the floor
While unseen eyes
Crouch low behind
The walls so thin…
The pious curse the holy
So evening curse the day
CHORUS
And on the 8Th day…
I should have known its name
years consume the hours
Turning black to gray
Light the fire
My dreamer’s son
You are the only one
To walk alone
In this desperate maze
Whose price has just begun
Drowning lies
In bottles of time