Destined as the servant to the night
Where your moon dreams of the dirt
And the sharp tongue of your zealous will
Is only congruent with the salt in your mouth
And the approaching eulogy of the world

Is only congruent with the salt in your mouth
And the approaching eulogy of the world
Lost in the patterns of youth
And the ghost of your aches comes back to haunt you
And the forging of change makes no difference
Makes no difference

Memories fly through the mask of your life
Shielding you from time
The years that birthed the shell
That you gained
Hunched over in apathetic grief
With a disregard for steps

Except the one taken back
Perched up on a rope crafted in smoke
A sword wielding death that buried your hope

Focusing on light through the blinds
Focusing on light through the blinds
A slave to reality under a monarch in the sky

Lost in the patterns of youth
Where the windows shine brightly
Lost in the patterns of youth
Where the windows shine brightly
Lost in the patterns of youth
Where the windows shine brightly
Lost in the patterns of youth
Where the windows shine brightly back at you
Brightly back at you
Brightly back at you

Copyright: DOMINO PUBLISHING COMPANY, Wixen Music Publishing
Writer(s): George Lesage Clarke, Kerry Dylan McCoy