V

The air is thick and saturated with remorse
Wallow in despair, lungs filled with ash
As our frail bones stand in contempt
On the graves we've dug
Like an immense void always growing
Taking up space until there’s nothing left
Feed the emptiness, feed it blood
Hecatomb of a thousand stars

And all it gave us was a life of toil and misery
And all it gave us was the semblance of a memory
And all it gave us was a life of toil and misery
And all it gave us was the semblance of a memory

Silence sets in, a whispеr becomes wailing
If one wеre to closely listen
Our hands against the wound of the throat that we have slit
Our hands against the throat