I fall into the statement and hang
on the edge I am looking at the depths that lye there
every jagged edge every jaded fear that lye between
Find confort in this great escape
swords speak evry bared and buries complaint
the grip of the hilt un my hand is false replacement
The mist speaks to the wonder that lye's in this heart
echo's calling consistently from unidentified locations
mind's eye sees what is unseen to the one standing before me
Convenient insurant thought flows through the heir of persona
crowds sway to the lyrical tone beseeching them
and doves fly for the grace that is inquired
Vile and grim they can not see
the surface and the shimmer the perceive
thorns and thistles make your hard earned fascade worthy
Dripping of wounds limbs are scared
gathered wits make battlefar from start
envious of folly is the ignorance of few
Tormented are two souls each with less proof
bronze sheilds lack the efforts needed for feud
hollowed hearts remain stationary for the grace of one
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