As I look out across the barrens of NoWhere
I see the battle scars of one lone man
A once powerful ship crumbles from the rust
Skeletons as far as the eye can see, wilting into dust
Heat rises from the burning sands, shifting on the plain
Momentarily exposing, where they were slain
As the wind stirs up the memories of this place
I hear a whisper from the Ghost of fallen grace
Searching through the decaying ruins
Digging for my spiritual druids
Examining fragments of emotional atrocities
Trying to conceal my own personal hypocrisies
The blazing desert sun,
Glares down on the deeds I have done
As sweat drips from my face
I catch a glimpse of the Ghost of fallen grace
Stepping into the corridors of this decomposing ship
My hold on reality slowly begins to slip
As I read the names scratched on the wall
I feel my skin, start to crawl
Framed portraits of my tormented past
Memories I've buried, and to the sea were cast
A cracked mirror reflects the schizophrenia of my face
In the shards of glass, I see the Ghost of fallen grace
Making my way across this wasteland of tombs
In which the road to Hell passes through
I come to the place where God's mercy is borrowed
Entranced by the billowing smoke, from the burning bridge of sorrow
A chiseled inscription on the Guardian's stone
This reads 'Poet. You have finally come home'
As a tear traces the lines on my face
I succumb to the Ghost of fallen grace
I see the battle scars of one lone man
A once powerful ship crumbles from the rust
Skeletons as far as the eye can see, wilting into dust
Heat rises from the burning sands, shifting on the plain
Momentarily exposing, where they were slain
As the wind stirs up the memories of this place
I hear a whisper from the Ghost of fallen grace
Searching through the decaying ruins
Digging for my spiritual druids
Examining fragments of emotional atrocities
Trying to conceal my own personal hypocrisies
The blazing desert sun,
Glares down on the deeds I have done
As sweat drips from my face
I catch a glimpse of the Ghost of fallen grace
Stepping into the corridors of this decomposing ship
My hold on reality slowly begins to slip
As I read the names scratched on the wall
I feel my skin, start to crawl
Framed portraits of my tormented past
Memories I've buried, and to the sea were cast
A cracked mirror reflects the schizophrenia of my face
In the shards of glass, I see the Ghost of fallen grace
Making my way across this wasteland of tombs
In which the road to Hell passes through
I come to the place where God's mercy is borrowed
Entranced by the billowing smoke, from the burning bridge of sorrow
A chiseled inscription on the Guardian's stone
This reads 'Poet. You have finally come home'
As a tear traces the lines on my face
I succumb to the Ghost of fallen grace