The Fantasy Itself

I hoped we might rid all these oceans of insipid howling
I hoped we might breathe in for new sound

Divide
To find the source of melody fading
Avowed to reap such low rewards
Forward throes

Jump off if only to reach symbiotic droning
Joy can't hold me by its side

It's too late to weep for you
Sans serif, recount these terrors
No point to weep for you
Leave only lonely ghosts

I hoped we might rid all these notions of patterns in groaning
I hoped we might lay out concerted glow

Buffer - the shape of gloom
And form
Lists only pardons for the hardy, leap back

Leap back
Dissolve fall's empty promise
Chosen - such miserable

Lowly sound is lowly solace
Solely become unknown

Ripped from dry jaws of the dream

Tome stolen: foregone
The stone is forgotten
The sword is shed

Hard-worn - broke and filthy
Crossfire in hearts of doom

The tower leaves all so vulnerable
(Free fire)
While light's watching on

Return to leave the Earth
Gleaned from the sole goal
Now gone

Suffer - innocent
The challenge in shutting doors

We live by unholy hands shorn
Twilight finds doom

Darkness is blank, nothing more
Don't let this trample your view
One more step

I hoped we might slay all the products of eventual prowling
I hoped we might play out the final note

Black breath, master regret
On your doorstep and it's so enticing
Now hold me close
We find new ways born of inner solace

It's too late and they've grieved for you
(To find your world of wonder)
Too much to keep this view
Now fighting hardy twilight

How it glows