A Long Defeat Lyrics

“Scribe quickly your name, and stay to the right. Your
script is curved. It’s inclination hooks and spurts as
if rushed to the end. We’ll see… This is only a
glimpse. Still, you’ve kept your head down. Where are
you hiding? And are you weak? Are you afraid? Did you
creep each step aghast, skirting shadows, or is it what
I seek?”

You called to pound the door with pointed hand, but we
would burn the house. We barred the doors with guilt
and bone, still we might burn the house. We would burn
this house of ill regard. Cathedral eyes were sewn to
bind. You won’t storm the house. We would burn the
house. My temple, I’ve mortared lock and key alike.
All’s buried, naught to find.

What am I now, torn in two? The illusion of me becomes
and confronts you. What am I, split in two? What’s left
of me will retreat from this empty knowledge. We’ll
weed out what we don’t know.

I’ve cut my loss and severed a thought from mind. It
plummets like a stone, and glaring back from depths to
heights, will torch the night. Retreat from this empty
knowledge. Weed out what we don’t know. Retreat from
this broken logic. Lost in what we do not know, we’ll
weed out what we don’t know.

The road that lay forward was paved with my fears. I
tore at the open floor. I scurried away, and down. Call
out to the open floor. Call out to the words that bind
us whole. Call out from the weighted floor. Call out to
the guards before us all. Call out to the way.

The wound was cauterized. Burn my way and throw me off
to the gate. Come fire. Come flame. Come home. Burn my
way. These days were a waste. Come fire. Come flame.
The weight of a sin’s thick fog. Come fire. Come flame.
Burn my way. And after all these words I couldn’t break
away from its hold. Weed out what we don’t know.

Shadows are fading. The burnt walls are crumbling. The
old guard is changing. We won’t look down, where we’ve
aimed for. Not before my eyes, but hidden behind my
back, and grasped with blood in claw. My soul
possessions are scant. Withdraw your hands. I’ve set my
share alight.

What’s beneath this? The husk is wrapped; its form
flawed. We’ll pry the fingers back each bone from bone,
all ashen, crumbled away. False. The rest is soot and
blown off. We won’t wait. Fall. What we’ve come digging
for is dead and cold. We couldn’t wait for the

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Record Label(s): 2010 Translation Loss
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