Ghosts of callouses are all that linger.
Like shadows on castle walls.
...a bed, in which, nothing good can grow.
nothing good can grow.
How does this linger, this mist, untouched by mourning?
How does it grey all brighter hues?
In sadness, we surrender, our hearts to defenses,
In sadness, we surrender, in sadness, we surrender!
Due that dampens faces, mourning after morning,
upon which there is no relief.
No test of God, no fleece. .
Is there no rest for the living?
Is there only in that final place?
Where light cracked beyond repair.
We're light cracked beyond repair.
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