Bleed The Vaults

Mother of all creation, why?
We sail across this endless sea birthed by how you did cry!
Drowning in constant dread for impending doom.
Signled out is how came about the tomb.
Our sacred texts and shattered ships.
These short lives which won’t seem to eclipse.
Twisted by feats we are challenged with.
Why are these the things you have to give?

Paralysis in preparation.
Stagnation sounds like a interpretation.
Bleed the vaults of what once was hope.
Sign our death certificate with an crooked stroke.

Father of our resurrection lie;
Were any words ever spoken so you could vie?
Fight for power to conquer us natives.
Weaving us in circles like dead creatives.
Rusted to the blocks which pulled us down.
Throughout it all you made us beg to your crown.
With violation the only item on your list.
Our existence for you was eternally dismissed.

Paralysis in preparation.
Stagnation sounds like a interpretation.
Bleed the vaults of what once was hope.
Sign our death certificate with an crooked stroke.

Brother of fated seperations cry;
Our options are bleak and we seek your guidance nigh.
For on the horizon is the final shape.
If we cannot linger then our souls will gape.
Be torn against the watery depths of death.
Never again be capable of taking a breath.
So we beg of you please give us aid.
Whatever you ask we will ensure it is repaid.

Paralysis in preparation.
Stagnation sounds like an interpretation.
Bleed the vaults of what once was hope.
Sign our death certificate with a crooked stroke.

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