Aschatria - Poetry

Today, we’ll be put on a trial to the horrors to come alive;
No sleep will close our mind because we’re the light,
No God of Dream can win the ultimate one, in me,
today, we’ll look at you done with my red empty eyes;
with other beasts you gonna save this earthly ash,
just to save your soul from the other deeds.

We’ll rather kill me dead than let you lift yourself;
I would rather die than help exalt your deamons,
justify so many deaths, no love for the innocence.
Hollow cry, for better life put the wings on the cross;
I’m his core, he won’t let the monsters on the river,
ears deaf for your prayers; I’m letting this house fall.

I look down at you trying to lock me in, in this grave of a body,
in this rotten box of hypnos,
for love, for life, for gold, for silver -
just imagine what I can…
rather pray to a wall because wall will stay standing,
no-no-no, he won’t let you win the will.

I will let go my life climbing staircase, this grave of a body,
this rotten box of hypnos,
for love, for life, for gold, for silver -
just imagine what I can…
no angel will stand up to fight against your fear or anger,
no-no-no, you can’t win the will.