Waves (blight-plagued) On fields of grey (Slow-churning) Pull him out of his ode (Near perfect) to fear Drowns in a note in dire thought (Unleavened) In the black sea (Where days go) Oh how could he ever know (Sightless) That fear sleeps with eyes closed In a ghostly haze He harvest the tides of time That may feed the living fortress Silverscarred and boundless In the ghostly haze There is no place or time And inside the living fortress The harvestman roams sightless Deadlights hover on shreds of age Ripped from an image of fate A rabid jester rubbing his jaded eyes Vision inflamed with dark silver, boundless Waves on fields of grey Pull him out of his ode And fear drapes the space Above his world (Unleavened) And the black sea (Where days go) Silent, waits for him there (Sightless) By the edge of colour and the ravine The immediate grace is to repent and suffer Disrobe to imitate levels Where outlanders may indulge Lay up every layer stripped from you In a ghostly haze He harvest the tides of time That may feed the living fortress Silverscarred and boundless In the ghostly haze There is no place or time And inside the living fortress The harvestman roams sightless Sightless