اللهْ .. حَيّْ
اللهْ .. حَيّْ
اللهْ .. حَيّْ

You...
I...
They praise the tyrant and curse the flame.
They choose the judge,
and burn the name.
You...
the mirror of my soul.
You...
the mask I can’t control.
They damn the truth,
and bless the blade.
They raise their hands
as if they prayed...

But it is you,
they call, not me.
It is you,
they name as me.
They kill for you,
they cry from you,
they lie through you,
and laugh unseen...
You...
false echo of my being.

If this I they wear is truly yours,
then you, from now, are mine by force.
You, the void I used to fear,
You, the silence drawing near...
You are mine .. when I decide.
You are mine .. no more to hide.
You are mine, you shapeless ghost,
You are mine,
when I need you most...

It is you,
they call, not me.
It is you,
they name as me.
They kill for you,
they cry from you,
they lie through you,
and laugh unseen...
You...
false echo of my being.

If I was ever yours to break,
then you, from now, are mine to take.

اللهْ .. حَيّْ
اللهْ .. حَيّْ
اللهْ .. حَيّْ

Shadow Of The Form

Nomad lyricist and techologist. Very obsessed with reviving classic poetry and using music as a time machine where distant epochs intertwine.

Shadow Of The Form

RaiNaWi