A requiem for the artificial.
Our melodies useless to the dead.
Like a sparrow without a throat, my serenades only fade.
I'm becoming a myth! This glass jaw only speaks words of legacy.
If this were my last breath, I wouldn't say a fucking word.
I am the machinist killed by my own creation.
The kingdom's subject of ridicule perpetually evermore.
I did not come from nothing and I refuse to die for nothing.
Pierced hands will carry the ocean for the earth nothing short of a sail, to
the edge of the sea I'll never tell the tale.
I'll return home a fable your majesty's lore of tragedy.
Alone and unshackled your words will fail to define me. I am what I am. Don't
you tell me what to believe!
These walls, unfit. This foundation, oh so rustic I'm picking up the pieces of
our shattered city.
I will arise! We will arise!