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.

10:07

Through the howling plains I walk,
Staring at the clock I hold in my hands,
the reflection of my face smiles, but I am lost;
facing south, west, east or north,
never will I find a gentle soul
willing to depart mine from my broken body.
All I see is snow; all I think about is the pureness of your smile,
which will save me from this dark fate.
Please come and show me the way,
is it the way the raging winds blow?
Or is it the silent path of sorrow
of those who dare crossing the sea,
the one which will enlighten this endless quest?

Although I seek, it is for sure
that never will I find a face like yours.
There is only room for surrender.
Here, roaming in these eternal fields of melancholy,
I reckon your lips in the face of an angel.
Lift me up to be punished by the hammer of the gods,
wrap me with an invisible cloth
and make the world forget my existence, if anyone ever noticed it.
The morrow will bring a new version of me,
time is the master of my destiny,
but time is still in the palm of my hand.