Frightened of the shadow, it becomes a ceasing shallow hole.
Wrapped up in your liquid voodoo, I smell the sour and stale halo.
It became our worst enemy after a time.
With all the scallops of drag, hoping to sanctify our only true desire.
Calm the storm with a tranquil eye, Take your fire and hold it tight.
It became superficial with every step inside. I bid thee ado, and in the sun setting sky, we know not what our life is but solid states of endless dew.
