The Noble Rot
Grayscale Season
Distant feeling
Bleeds right through
It's in your arms now
It's over soon
Sharpen the knife
Cut me open
Sharpen the knife
Sever the limb
Four years talking, but nothing’s new
Stitches like seams, to close the wound
I've tried to temper but it's seeping through
This itching feeling
And the white noise too
Distant feeling
Bleeds right through
It’s in your hands now
It’s over soon
Slit right open
Stir the masses
Sky turns golden
And Life bypasses
Life in past tense
Brightest blight
Heat transcends
Into white light
It's in your hands now
As it drifts away
No tomorrow
Only yesterday
I've tried to temper but it's seeping through
This itching feeling
And the white noise too
You can’t see it but it’s bleeding through
The stitches need to be taut
Left is The Noble Rot