With eyes that see the world, broken shards of midnight sky.
Each knowing, each seeing, the souls that hide beneath the skins of man.
Cutting, they seek the truth. They hold not mercy, nor justice.
Brilliantly they the blaze, soaking up the spirit, the life that bides it's time.
No rules do they follow, no honor to hold dear.
Antagonistic simplicity is all that can describe the honest yearning of those ash-burning globes.
Once, they beheld the beating heart, and heard the trumpet sound.
Knew the delicious mention of lush deliverance as something like a dream.
But, knowledge has wiped clean the slate of curiosity.
Evaporated all need for love and it's tidings.
Now, at the end, all is still and suspicion.
Skepticism and false hope.
Here, eyes hold no wanting, are only bulbs that carry no light,
and the echo;
Of what will never be.