Travelers of the North
A religious song to warn the masses about the up coming final battle.
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In den Warenkorb
Wunschliste
(Verse 1)
We're on an edge of a presapist.
Lost to our mind.
Praying to my god who's left us drifting through time.
Reading every moment waiting to find the signs.
Tick Tock, here is the clock beating down my heart again.
A servant to the masses, a beacon to your sins.
A final attempt to serve your soul my friends.
(Chorus)
Prophetically speaking, we are pathetically done.
Every lesson failed, collaboratively by one.
There’s no other options due to popular demand.
Release the angels on their lands.
(Verse 2)
Standing in a dark corner, of a well lit room.
Observing tendencies of the sleeping as they walk to their tombs.
Magic mirror bring them comfort, admist their lies.
Devote of all the love, required to stay alive.
Tick Tock, here’s the clock beating down my heart again.
A servant to the masses, a beacon to your sins.
A final attempt to serve your soul my friends.
An illusionist message for spiritual end.
(Solo)
Prophetically speaking we are pathetically done.
Every lesson failed collaboratively by one.
There’s no need for repentance now, your decisions made.
Release the angels on their graves.
© TC Farrand 2019
EN-US
EN-EU
