A Pale December - Nethermost

It is death
In every detail
In every deed
In every word

It is death
In every place
In the perpetuum
Of cosmic decay

Beyond the filter
Of wishful eyes
Within these empty dreams
I find myself
Always circling
Aimlessly
And I keep telling myself
That time
Will give relief

But nothing can
Dissolve these chains
That I myself
Have built
Countless times we've been tested
And even more we've failed

Where is the splendour
Where is the pride
And the golden halls
For which we've died
They built your grave
Despised as a throne
There was only dirt
Where you saw gold

Why do we keep fighting death
In its own domain
Always seeking purpose
In going against the grain
Like soldiers in disarray
In a futile call to arms
This is a cemetery
Where no one comes to mourn

And it feels
So familiar

Where is the splendour
Where is the pride
And the golden halls
For which we've died

Countless times we've been tested
And even more we've failed

They built your grave
Despised as a throne
There was only dirt
Where you saw gold

Was this the purpose
Of enduring such pain
Was this the reason behind
Every single worthless day
A misbegotten
Search for meaning
Always destined to fail
Now silence
Embrace my grave

All this
Will be left forlorn
I know my place in this lonely
Fields where I have torn
And left my soul to bleed