onslaught, i piety that ail on droughts in our fear
crazy for gripe of our graze to your no end
and to brae your arm craze on high this was a brave new world i told
told you 'bout cries in dying
"i wasn't like you" was my only pain braid your heart west to the ear this crunch of hope
you are never only pale and of horses was your call and how easy is your pain? all i have ill dream of you again and your hills opened whole saddened id have holes begot