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Wastelands

de Heretoir

Cutting the water under our feet
A suicidal urge
Forcing our way to perfection
Until all decays in the grey

A heavy wing lifts no more
A tired body no longer soars

These wounds of woe
How could we know?
Clear-cut tracts of land

We're in an endless coma

Lower your eyes
And hold your breath
Can you feel the ashes
Falling through thin air?
This is not what we've hoped for
But we knew it all

Lower your eyes
And hold your breath
Can you feel the ashes
Falling through thin air?
This is not what we've hoped for
But we knew it all

We knew it all
We knew it all
We knew it all

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