Imperialus
Mechina
The ashes of unrest do a dance under a cold sky
Fireflies, made from our demise
These shadow empires entombed
Fireflies, made from our demise
These shadow empires entombed
The ashes are all that's left of home
Pages of the skinned, carried off in the wind
Into a distant sky, to be spoken again
Screams of the flock
Cry out for design
This power of one
A savior to none
The skies open and paints a portrait with no use of color
The ground reflects a world that has been torn asunder
My home has been entombed under ashes
My only hope is to envision a new world
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