Script
That coils 'round my arms
Prayers of a long lost priest
Descriptions of a world beyond
Promises they can't keep
I hold my torch up high
In search of the key to the lock
Yet I always forget one truth
I am not one with this flock
Standing on the precipice of death you question
Why am I here?
The echoes of our deep November
Resounding and clear
You were never the key, though I hear faint echoes of your knock
Our paths no longer cross, and I will never be your lock
Brace
We've never held the same beliefs
Despite our lucid hopes, we live the life beneath
What sense is there to grip the memories of a life that's lost
Perhaps one day we'll find each other's gaze
In the frost
