Young rust

When the morning bleaches
I watch the river die
In the course of my regrets

Where I seek forgiveness
There are no willing hearts to forgive

Before my probing eyes
Running undercurrent
Remorse's sovereign

And in my witching hour
That distant mirage revealed the end

This is a pain not felt

The cult of silence as a white weapon
Stitches together the fabric of our souls

I am the sum of evil
This guilt can't leave behind

The rope is loose around my neck
The seeds are scattered right where they fell

Beneath the surface bleeding
The forsaker still remains unseen

Mark the death of this solemn curse
Walk the path that never ends
Gasp the air from this passionate sigh
Supress the urge hopelessly enshrined

The leash of all my fears
(I am above the circle
Entangled by despair)
Is held by denial
(I lure the inept receiver
Recycling loss again and again)

When the morning bleaches
She watches the river die
In the course of her regrets

Where she seeks forgiveness
There are no willing hearts to forgive

Behind the rust of our youth
The shroud of atonement
Is still draped over us

And above cycling waters
There will be air… too thin, too rare