These Walls... Lyrics

The raging fist of a midwinter tide
Had broken the jaws of Leviathan
She stood on the edges, embellished by seagulls
She was ignoring the waves and the water that sighed

Still the depth's drip peels the scabs of her sands
One day she will scuttle the seabed with scythes
And seamen will sing the most mythical tale
Of a nameless grave at the ports of my eyes

Oh I have seen these treasures of yours
Oh how I've longed for the wine
Unto virgin shores I've been walked and misled
How had I screamed into most starless skies?
Back to the land where she stands I must go –

A reflection of all that I hide

With a looking glass
And a stare that asks
Nearby candles and lanterns or fluorescent sky
Where the spider weaves
And the autumn leaves
All of them sear into soars souring high

At the sewer garden
Where the writing burden
Bares more weight than the shoulders of Atlas himself
Tiny fingertips
Drumming one's own hips
My tortured hand is aching for feelings I cannot describe

The ink is my blood, and words I am bleedin
Staining velvet gown for her funeral day

Glass casket – like waves
Will feed the dear algae
The ocean so jealous, yet she's not afraid

One day she will scuttle the seabed with scythe
Oh sonnet of love, forgotten art so dismaying
I hail from the flagpole "Starvation and loss!
Come what may with the storms!"

Clinging hard at the table
The feather is drawing a soul I must find
A nameless grave at the ports of my eyes