Mirrors are chanting a well-known tune.
Arise, arise - this ancient memory.
Frozen air is slowly cracking my cocoon.
Like ages before, I feel trapped in destiny.

Each humble word of wisdom has no meaning,
just like all the feelings that we don’t show.
Silence remains when they're done concealing.
Chained there slumbers my sanity in a dale below.

My vigor is fading under a corrosive veil of doom.
Into madness sincerity so easily tumbles.
Look, they robed my grave with a blackened bloom.
Witchcraft! - That's the way the cookie crumbles.

I was chasing thy demons with unrelenting force.
Breathing, weeping, flying high, feeling worn.
I sealed the light below the darkest barred doors.
For I saw: There is no rose without a thorn.