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Claret Ash
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The Sombre Fields
Still is the air you breathe. Harvested within my sombre fields No consciousness for tomorrow. Nor comfort within my twisted mind Isolation, now behold me. Defiance from all that's before you
We are set to burn our souls. We are set to turn to stone We all live to reach the pinnacle of existence
Still is the air you breathe. Harvested within my sombre fields We are set to burn our souls. We are set to turn to stone We all live to reach the pinnacle of existence We rejoice to see the end. No tomorrow for I seek death The hatred burns around me aflame
A sombre sense as time does pass through deluded eyes these fields now… Writhe
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