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letra de proliferant continuance - holy locust

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waves o’ waves sing for me your wise old withered melody, and i will fall into thee, see all the things you have seen

winds o’ winds teach me your ways and i will give you the rest of my days. i will learn to unlearn these scripts and the tongue of the devil who created it

all hands stolen from sacred ground, all arms swallowed by cleansing sand, all hail the sound of the waves wash away all the worry
all hope rests ‘neath the feet of fools, all time tethered to trembling tools, all souls shake in the sight of the sun

holy holy fields of gold, soiled by the truths untold. gr-ss of green or fields of grey, all become one someday
sound so clear the ring of bells, older than the sound of the wind itself. turn to dust the ancient stone, the road winds longer anyone could roam

so we cut off our own hands and bled, now the sands won’t grow, left with a barren stone. now we wait for the day now to come, when it all falls down, build a new god in man

last breaths, breath in your final hours. last rights as the sickness sours. what stench stuck to our skin as the hour grows thin

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