The gift of the ghosts

In the wake of failure

The gift of the ghosts
Our vices nick like the prick from a pin,

(tearing away at your fibers)

A stitch in time to heal these wounds,

(rebuilding your life in patchwork)

You're stepping down from this

white walled, stair well.

You're staring the beast in the eye

as he stalks your every motion.

Each step's a crack in your foundation.

That you've worked so hard to build.

Our vices nick like the prick from a pin,

(tearing away at your fibers)

A stitch in time to heal these wounds,

(rebuilding your life in patchwork)

Just get a hold,

a grip of yourself.

You're moving backwards in time.

In this ensemble of titans

you're only a mouse,

playing the notes all too soon.

Our vices nick like the prick from a pin,

(tearing away at your fibers)

A stitch in time to heal these wounds,

(rebuilding your life in patchwork)

Just get a hold,

a grip of yourself.

You've been here,

You know it all too well.

Just take it in,

the bitter taste of hell.

Our vices nick like the prick from a pin,

(tearing away at your fibers)

A stitch in time to heal these wounds,

(rebuilding your life in patchwork)

Just get a hold,

a grip of yourself.

We're awaiting the crescendo,

the ending credits.

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