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The Snake of Birds
Folder:
Volume Two Tortured souls yearning to be free
Lost thoughts escaping me
running towards your light
laws don't make it right
Hold out your dreams, to the snake of birds
with a twisted head it speaks in forgotten words
'find your own path' was what it had said
giving me the wine, the blood of Royal Dead
taking the virgin sacrament to his bed
and a King is born within his head
Where is this untraveled path
the fortune of life to be had
where are the pillars of gold
and the tombs of the old
giving up your dreams from the past age
realizing the false hope, as time turns another page
Death can be a blessing, to a life spent in pain
Death can be the release, for those who are insane
Life a warm blanket, those desprate few try and fake it
struggling just to let go
a void in their life, a vast hole
praying desprately for their soul
Where is my eulogy, my Funeral song
why am I here, if my birth was so wrong
Why do I breath, if my esistance is mocked
Celebrate my death, by how I lived
