Forging Sympathy
Gregor MacKintosh / Nick Holmes
A mass of breathing souls
For times are desolate
Passing judgement on my sentence
As I perceive my dying day
Give me a promise
The word I will never hear
Sympathies forging, stalling in me
I'm closing all the doors
While my frown remains
Until I reach my golden haven
I'll let the sadness pass my way
Preaching the words of angels, to a darker side of man
My halo's fading with all the sin I deal
Have I been banished, a forgery
Sear, the tender feeling as my solar glow dies
And I'm waiting for my sweet hell
You'll wait for your hell, I wish you hell
In time the hate corrodes
Our brains are desolate
And this prison which we serve in
Will be a witness to our pains
Preaching the words of angels, to a darker side of man