The Wise Man’s Fear
Bloodlust
I’d light myself on fire just to watch your kingdom burn
I’ve suffered seven years and now it’s finally your turn
I’ve been listening to sickly sweet voices
Muse of self destruction and the art of killing the heart
There’s a comfort in their torment, an addiction to their pain
Cause we all have felt this illness
But I’m not getting better
Cause we all have felt this illness
But I’m not getting better
Cast your gaze on fields bloated by mottled blood of your people
Feast your eyes on mutilated justice bred to malice-born tyranny
Grasping at the wind
Feeling life and the love that I knew slip away
Burning at both ends
There’s a world torn in two and now I cannot stay
You are the serpent that eats its own tail
Feast on your flesh
Father like Romulus
Descendants of fire
Born from it, bred for it
Brothers like sand and glass