The water pours its embracing arms around the stone Decay drips from the unquiet void where the ice forms, where life ends The stone is by the crimson
[Instrumental]
and return as cascading blood Dying bloodbirds pooling, feeding the flood The god of man is a failure And all of our shadows are ashes against the grain
The texture of the soul is a liquid that casts a vermilion flood From a wound carved as an oath; it fills the river bank a sanguine fog These arms were