Hope

We all are but prisoners in the dusk of this dawn,

All we have are the stale misconceptions from hope

As we lay, awake in this bed of the many sleepers.

We sing, we scream and we go silent

Knowing not if to breathe, we carry on

We dance in this party with the vanity of funerals

There is only one thing we can do, yet know not if its true

Hope is the name of our child,

Bloody and numb we know not if it is alive

On the board, the last pawn to fall,

In the woods, the grapevine embracing the grainy dead

It might just end being the song of mundane will.

In the sight of the sun, it is a flash of night,

And in the night, the shadow of a moonlit sky

Rising above like the waves of fate, all we can do is drown

Again, we sing and we scream

Drunk in the truth of these mysteries we dance

Dance through the funeral processions up to the bed of our graves.