Emma Ruth Rundle & Thou
Out of Existence
The slender sun receding where pain and thought departed
The hymns that illness breathes into our hearts, a seat
It sings in silver threats and golden phrases turning
A verse no one forgets: The Song of All Things Burning

This one is predetermined
This one will find no favor
This one is weight unburdened
Dragging down our lives
This one is predetermined
We all know just what comes next

In the depths of your unfailing strange selfishness
Stay the last corrupt remaining pale monuments
In the dark of your unending daft unconsciousness
Does the spark catch to the edifice and flame
In flames

This one is predetermined
This one will find no favor
This one is weight unburdened
Dragging down our lives