Brimful halls feel vacant
As the warmth becomes ash
Words become smoke
Reality the Aeolian winds become
I am the storm that is approaching
But it's quiet now
This calm before the storm
Is always the dullest noise in your realm of fear
Subhuman, cast aside from the gates
Only printed in a tarot card
Indifferent dogs, indifferent years, I yearn
As we're casting the dice
Bury the light deep within
Cast aside, there's no coming home
We're blowing chaos in the wind
Drifting in the ocean all alone
