To lose and never find again
All hope. Inhale the cold, intake the pain
Of wondering these corridors
Which have no windows, neither doors.
Bleak torches guide my way within
The catacombs of fear and ever-thriving sin,
And up above there sits a man
Upon his throne of dirt and sand.
And torment lies upon my king - a crown
Of all that's lost and never found.
There, from beneath I sing to him of truth and hearts
departed.
One - doomed to wonder in a maze, the other - gravely
shattered.