Sick steps dent the spine of the world Tracing the path to the lighthouse The fatalists wheel, set in it's spin For absent friends and withered futures Hollow, but for the thirst Follow, into the dead star Eyes heavy with a thousand mile stare Set upon the summit cloaked in onyx smoke Billowing out like winded breaths Pale white light escapes in pulses As if set to the heartbeat of the earth Hollow, but for the thirst Follow, into the dead star Hand over fist, jagged rock stigmata Starlight and the crashing of waves Topside, a step into the brightness then enveloped At one with the dead star