Two Towers

Fit For An Autopsy
A chill arrives.
It seals the loss in our eyes.
One soul locked in two towers.

I found us in another time, raw of heart and scar.
A former shell, a future self.
The bridge between the stone and sky collapsed
to oceans of embers, ever-vast.

One soul remains, locked in two towers.
One soul betrayed, accept the things you cannot change.

The garden lies before me, secured from wolven claw.
I give to you, if only to remain.
“No my prisoner, the gate is closed.”
Only despair shall shape the bones of the dying plane.

One soul remains, locked in two towers.
One soul betrayed, accept the things you cannot change.

Hear me betrayer, what is to come?
Covenant lost, what is to come?
All of death is due in time.

Despair shall shape the bones of the dying plane.

The winds that pass, whispering epitaphs.
Carnivorous forms entwining sorrowed pasts.
Carve into canyon hearts until the centuries cease.
Once and for all, the martyrs of the coming fall.

One soul remains, locked in two towers.
One soul betrayed, accept the things you cannot change.

One soul. Two towers.
Accept the things you cannot change.

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