Self Loathing Orchestration - Bishop Of Hexen

The turmoil, the tempest and the burns

The inner lament, nothing magnificent!

Screens on the outside…

The promise, the hope and the scars

The inner voice, mute, screams way out of sight

Turn over stone after stone, to reveal a scorpion

The turmoil, the tempest and the burns

Promise…

A feeble glow in the dark… evoling only to descent

A stare is enough to… put them out

Self loathing Orchestration

A shaken young man

Has aged far before it’s mine

Now the days have passed

When he paved his way through the lies

They haunt him at night, and reflect through his eyes

A twich caught moth

The hunter become the hunt

Whence will come serenity that

Has no death as its roll

Where lays silence that doesn’t bind with loneliness to become a whole?

While sleeping, by nightmares he is devoured

His body inhabits a dead soul, eyes empty and hollow

Awaken!

Heed our call

Don’t let go until you become a whole

Live thy dreams fulfill thy desire

Dream to live

And never ever cease