The 8th Day: Mourning

Draw the curtains

It's time to sleep

Everything is not as it seems

Silent hands of winter winds

Are drawing near

Fold the tension slowly

Wait beneath the tear

The tarnished gold

Through the window pain

Lies dead upon the floor

While unseen eyes

Crouch low behind

The walls so thin

The pious curse the holy

So evening curse the day

And on the 8Th day

I should have known its name

Years consume the hours

Turning black to gray

Light the fire

My dreamer's son

You are the only one

To walk alone

In this desperate maze

Whose price has just begun

Drowning lies

In bottles of time

Shipwrecked for no one to see

Reaching as far

To other worlds

Besieged by numbered days

Besieged by numbered days