“Walk on, holy man
Holy man in the crumbling land
The blind man, with his feet in the sand
And the skull of his father clutched in his hands…”
I’ve walked each lonely mile
With my face cast to the ground
I see nobody else’s faces
My truth cannot be found
And in the hazy distance
In the rippling sand
The line of vultures on a cage of ribs
None can still the Dark God’s hand
Walk with me into the darkness
Let me take you to the shadows and beyond
Take my hand in your hand
Try to understand
The path to enlightenment is filled with the bones
of the men who have tried before you,
and died before you.
And this holy pilgrim stands alone
Alone in the sun
Hears the voices of his father
The race ends before it has begun
He chases shadows like mirages
Burned across his line of vision
And curses those who set upon him
And cast him aside with fear and derision
Inside the man was once a child
Torn between the truth and lies
And as the son seeks the father
The line between them obscures and dies
Walk with me into your blindness
Cast your fears like orbs of sand
Take my hand in your hand
Try to understand
The path to enlightenment is barred by the stones
of the men who have tried before you,
and died before you.
And now he knows there is no wise man
There is only the pain of death
Sadness, and in that sadness, madness
Still the Dark God beckons:
“Walk on, holy man
Holy man in the crumbling land
The blind man, with his feet in the sand
And the jaw of his brother clutched in his hands…”
And still he’s tempted to see the face of God
To gaze upon that stony face
As if it’s something he had forgot
Or forsaken on his quest
He was born to serve the Dark God
The twisted master of the Devil
In the shape of a Divine Father
Chosen as the lesser of two evils
And this apprentice stands alone
Alone in the sun
Hears the voices of his father
The race ends before it has begun
Walk with me into the shadows
Let me fill you with their lies
Take my hand in your hand
Try to understand
The path to enlightenment is filled with the bones
of the men who have tried before you,
and died before you.
And he knows there is no wisdom
In the fledgling mix of lies
And his crumpled face lined with age
Turns itself in anguish to curse the skies
“Walk on, holy man
Holy man in the crumbling land
The blind man, with his feet in the sand
And the fate of the world clutched in his hands…”
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