Atrophy

There's a wolf amoungst us
He wears my face
Finding solace
In the most fitting place.

Lake bound lady
Do you enjoy my company
As we swim
Beneathe the tide
With even symetry.

What lies beneathe
Our tales of sorrow
Take this chance
For tomorrow...

A cold wind
Smoothes the surface
A half-life becomes a race
Removes all perception
Invoking as altered states

We hold to form
The cure and its disease
As we swim
Beneathe the tide
With even symetry

What lies beneathe
Our tales of sorrow
Take this chance
For tomorrow...

There's a wolf
Amoungst us
He wears my face
Finding
Solace
Without a trace.

What lies beneathe
Our tales of sorrow
Take this chance
For tomorrow...