Wolves At The Gate - Lowborn

Baby Blue

I woke in a sweat from a desirous fever in the pocket of yesteryear

Where faults have fallen to some.

I begged not to carry the corpse.

To not be a queer fish in unforgiving hearts.

To not be buried in native clay and preserved for cynicism.

I wish to be a pauper in kind eyes. To feel the gravel beneath my knees.

To wake in a home.

God had sent my calamity into a deep space from which not even in dreams,

Could I ever imagine my escape

Styczeń

 

HAIL SANTA!

The Grey

Once more into the fray...

Into the last good fight I'll ever know.

Live and die on this day...

Live and die on this day...

''Ponownie ruszam w bój,

Bitwa ostatnia czeka mnie.

Żyć i umrzeć tego dnia,

 Żyć i umrzeć tego dnia''.

Holy Roller

Holy Roller sits in the garden we fled

Blood into wine, take my body instead

Holy Roller sits in the garden we fled

Blood into wine, take my body instead

Holy Roller

Stand

To the left of me

In paradise

Holy ghosts will

Born of blood

In seraphim

To grip the Nazarene

Crown of God

You wear it thin

To come and rapture me

Holy Roller sits in the garden we fled

Blood into wine, take my body instead

Holy Roller sits in the garden we fled

Blood into wine, take my body instead

Stand

To the left of me

In paradise

Holy ghosts will

Fade

Into oblivion

Like a blade

Falling slowly

Curse the holy down

And when I die, you won't pray for me

That's when I learn to

Cut my ties

And when I die, you won't pray for me

That's when I learn to

Cut my ties

Holy Roller sits in the garden we fled

Blood into wine, take my body instead

Holy Roller

Stand

To the left of me

In paradise

Holy ghosts will

Fade

Into oblivion

Like a blade

Falling slowly

Grudzień