Mirror Reaper (So Below) Lyrics

PART 2: THE WORDS OF THE DEAD (CONT.)

Be not where you lay lest the bond be broken
Vanish where you stay
Timeless in the well lest the song is spoken
Over for the sell

Eye of the cold
Will scald in the fold
Higher than low

Dripping from the scene lest the scalding ocean
Is drowning all the trees
Time to fall this cell
Know the name of harrowed
With it you will do well

The crane that only felt was never seen as spoken
Its vanished from my self
The tame you would arise
Formulate the harrowed
Vanish in the I
Vanish in the eyes
Vanish from the sky

The stain that only sees
Crawl like rain
Is only led through harrowed
For disdain
When practiced at the dream
When nothing left to see
Nought to feign
Call the name upon this floor
Nor to drain
Know that is more
And opened in the shallows
None for sane
When nothing could be more
When nothing could be more
Burn the core
You see the final shore
From before
Bleed beyond pour
Last of lore
Drip up on the floor
Seen as more
Vanish for the more
Told it well
Called beyond the well
The tore the shell
Led beyond the chill
When nothing held
Stone the moon as well
But something fell
For which you could have found

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PART 3:

Float the moon as well…

Flow the moon as well…

All who strayed beyond the shadows have nothing to disdain
All that soared away from reason were held aloft in sway
All that’s widening the narrows will crumble to decay

Lie of the sold
Would warm in the cold
Desire will hold

IF THE MOTION
LIED AND LIGHT HAD FROZE
MIGHT OF THE FEVER
HOLD MY EYES TO KNOW

Dry the waves
Anchor ice
Mirror reaper
Arrowed eyes

AN ICE OF PIECES
OF WHAT WAS ONCE THERE,
THE SKIN OF BEING
FLAYED AS THOUGH
THE AIR

Dry the land
Anchor sand
Mirror reaper
Gallows stand
Slow the heart
Still the tide
Sink the heavens
From the sky

All that laid upon this hallowed yet crumbling domain
All who strayed beyond the shadows have nothing to disdain

This cycle thus froze
When seeking all repose
The thawing of peace
Drips backward to the freeze
Now motion lies still
With nought left for the kill
A fever long boiled
And venom to recoil

The pendulum slows
Then stilled under the cold
In absence he flies
In presence we will writhe