Chains

Morbus Chron

The sand is cast to tuck me in
And in the wake of sleep I wish to be shed of old skin

Surmounting the heavens I'd climb higher
To obtain the bliss that I desire
Hitting the nethermost of bottoms I'd dig lower
To reveal the plane I must discover

The sand is cast to tuck me in
And in the wake of sleep I'll ride on vigorous wings

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