The observers

The observer is coming, I cannot breath,
his pace is oh so silent, how can I know his secret way?
Oh, is it time to bow before him?
Wait, the river calls my name, so far away;
this spitting distance between us
drains me out of blood, and tears my soul apart;
I would go down this road of sorrow
just to light up your darkened mind.

The matriarchs are waking, the witches call,
the fire burns my sight, how can I walk this endless path?
Should the demons be hungry still,
run, your flesh will be torn into pieces;
to separate us more, to escape:
to grow steel wings and fly away
swiftly and silently with the peace inside
of knowing that I cannot know it all.