A Subtle Dagger
de Thrice
it infiltrates,
insidious,
it feigns at love,
betrays our trust
in what we've known,
since we were born.
the truth we've found in all we see
points to design,
still our chests swell,
we'll never find
true answers from a wishing well.
so feed us all
another lie,
to still our thoughts,
appease our pride,
so we wont have
to chance the way we see, we live, we love, we die,
our lust precedes
our blasphemy,
our logic reads
like notes from tainted autopsy.
our souls they speak of something more,
but we cant look beyond ourselves.
we implore empty skies because
our heats hold room for no one else,
we extend our
claws to grasp at shadows of the
ideals we have,
lost causalities of a subtle dagger,
buried to the
hilt in our hearts, blood on our hands.
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Image Of The Invisible
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Image Of The Invisible
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In Exile
Beggars
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The Artist In The Ambulance
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Identity Crisis
Identity Crisis
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All That's Left
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Salt and Shadow
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Moving Mountains
The Alchemy Index, Vol. 3 & 4: Air & Earth
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Death from Above
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Blinded
Major/Minor (Deluxe Version)
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Silhouette
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Hurricane
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Red Sky
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Yellow Belly
Major/Minor (Deluxe Version)
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Blood on the Sand
To Be Everywhere Is to Be Nowhere
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To Awake And Avenge The Dead
The Illusion of Safety
