7 acessos
The piercing sword of wretched pride
The burden of this scornful mind
Starving for balance I exist
Coiling into obfuscation
The wolfish howl of my conscience
A beacon of all conventions
I am the wound
The prisoner of time
Stranger to mirrors
I finally recognize
All words are lost
All meaning is gone
Thoughts are extinct
Connected as one
Trapped in the grasp
of the moment's hand we live and rust
The tolling clock
A monument to all that is lost