As these excruciating times nest now upon us, will we 
have the strength to execute our passions wisely? Or as 
every minute bleeds into the next, will these shores of 
time subside, and leave us with the blindness of our 
hearts. Every legend's wrath will have its day to 
embitter its demise into a gain, to patch the broken 
lights of its decay; A rebirth in fires leave us slain, 
to replace every moment of our pain, to watch you die 
again each day with the solace of a hope forgotten and 
unsustained. So now as want would now suggest, shall we 
fall like all the rest, or do we have the strength to 
suffer every moment of our hopes decay? Cursing every 
shadow, every shadow of our sight, while slaving for a 
second chance, we're guilty of an apathetic glance. 
Embolden by no threat or conscious flaw, Inside the will 
to live is faltering. In this war of words, I stumble 
from my path. I will shoulder every burden of despair 
until I die.