We trace over our bloodlines, through a bloody history of war.
A timeline unfinished, etched deeply to the core.
Following in their footsteps, we trample our own shadows.
Laid scattered before us, stretched, broken and torn.
In a sea of indifference, on the banks of disillusion.
From shore to fiery shoreline, we wade in with the tide.
To battle with our demons, our memories and ghosts.
Haunted by our pasts and principles, washed up on the coast.
Adrift upon the foam, the spume of brothers long gone.
In the eye of the oncoming storm, we see ourselves forlorn.
A cloud, dark grey and menacing, looming over our thoughts and fears.
To threaten our landscapes, with waves borne on tears.
Washing over all that we’ve destroyed, the badlands that we’ve built.
Quenching our thirst for battles fought throughout the years.
And wetting our appetites for the blood that we have spilt.
– David Allen