Where the hood at
ingenting finns
allting är dött
inget förändras
inget förblir
allting försvinner
ingen blir kvar
frälsta i död vill vi inte ha svar
Ingrain
Living inside the tapestry
A pattern of swirls for none to see
A bleak hollowed shell falls to the ground
Breaks on the floor without making a sound
Choices you made by yourself in the dark
Would spiral me down to where no one would hark
Candles burning to grow shorter
As their light fades in your eyes
Blood runs cold in pale white snow
The candles burn so very low
And once escaped I'll never find
A place to rest and peace of mind
Clutching at what's long been lost
With freedom bought, but at what cost?
A cold despise the no one feigns
Sand now runs throughout my veins
