I get this feeling while our words are weaving
that I don't quite play my part
While my cracks are healing I refrain from dreaming
like they still could come apart

Like an angel was sent down when Lucifer was lonesome
you tease me with your paradise, when all the stairs are broken
and I am stone forever now like Midas turned you golden
The gargoyle's limbs are petrified, you know his spine is broken

The streetlights cry and the road unwinds
'neath wounded hooves of time
The nightlife sighs, and my thoughts entwine
They're still not worth a dime

Feathers fall, illusions cease, and minds are wished unspoken
Life was silenced, anguish waxed when trust was left for broken
This is the tragic act of man: pretending that by hoping
we can work the wheels of fate, yet leave the spokes unbroken

It's said to be heard to the end of the world
this mortal piece of lore
Though it may seem absurd just embrace every word
to its shattered midnight core

When evenings die they leave behind a mood that seems so potent
Yet dust-eyed, dronelike lines are formed, whose chains will not be broken
Their hellhounds come to seize them in this hour of our judgment
The future is a mighty web, but every strand is broken