Anger fore than most other
At not yielding to a brother
Lost in the love of a life
Drowning in The minds strife
The day is lost so it seems
And tomorrow too, A distant scream
We that are late in taking the stand
Pander our freedom, kneel at fate's hand
Where art thou, O true friend of the dawn's mist
Like a cup, he giveth and holdeth your sorrow
Who's heart is pure, beyond nature's borrow
Thy comforting hand, lost in my meek morrows
Stupor engulfs me, lethargy consumes
In its numb heaven, the mind assumes
It bereaves the fall of a tower built
With bricks of gold and the mortar of dreams
In that soaring Gaia, I aspire to roar
The folly of these words, the dream a whore
The wise man sayeth, tis but a trickster's bow
This is me, This is real, This is now
Into that brewing storm, Carry forth your trumpet call
Do not falter, for you will be beaten down to Gabriel's hall
To be loved beyond measure, tis a quandary
When the mind's in doubt and you keep not a boundary
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