Ocean of Grief
Artist
Loneshore - The Quiet Visitor lyrics
Artist: Loneshore
album: From Presence to Silence
Faded but reflective
Worn but not ignored
The leaves that pave the way were once where our heads are
A pale, corroding sky
Above, the sun dissolves
The sins of the repented
Haunt me where I go
The lesser evil in the quest for vindication
Embodied in an attempt to drown the pain that abounds
Bellow, the roots implode
I feast upon it like vultures would around a looted grave
I kiss the ground I stand on to gently welcome this newborn age
Into the open cracks I see the glimpse of a perpetual ghost set ablaze
Approaching light
All woes are scorched in the fire,
Craddle of my rebirth,
The plunging of my being into the depths of the earth
Is what makes the rivers flow
The night arrives and brings stillness to the wrecks
The coldness follows and devours me into the dismal black
Alone I gazed at the chasm
Idly sharpening the blade
To peel myself of this rot eye
Redemption in the heart of wilderness
Approaching light
All throes were bathed in the fire,
Craddle of my rebirth,
The blooming of the seed buried inside
Is what makes our spirits fly
Worn but not ignored
The leaves that pave the way were once where our heads are
A pale, corroding sky
Above, the sun dissolves
The sins of the repented
Haunt me where I go
The lesser evil in the quest for vindication
Embodied in an attempt to drown the pain that abounds
Bellow, the roots implode
I feast upon it like vultures would around a looted grave
I kiss the ground I stand on to gently welcome this newborn age
Into the open cracks I see the glimpse of a perpetual ghost set ablaze
Approaching light
All woes are scorched in the fire,
Craddle of my rebirth,
The plunging of my being into the depths of the earth
Is what makes the rivers flow
The night arrives and brings stillness to the wrecks
The coldness follows and devours me into the dismal black
Alone I gazed at the chasm
Idly sharpening the blade
To peel myself of this rot eye
Redemption in the heart of wilderness
Approaching light
All throes were bathed in the fire,
Craddle of my rebirth,
The blooming of the seed buried inside
Is what makes our spirits fly
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