Script that coils ‘round my arms
Prayers of a long lost priest
Descriptions of a world beyond
The promises they can’t keep

I hold my torch up high
In search of the key to the lock
Yet I always forget one truth
I'm not one with this flock

Standing on the precipice of death
You question: Why am I here?
The echoes of our deep November resounding and clear
You were never the key, though I hear faint echoes of your knock
Our paths no longer cross, and I will never be your lock

Brace
We never held the same beliefs
Despite our lucid hopes we live the life beneath
What sense is there to grip the memories of a life that’s lost?
Perhaps one day we’ll find each other’s gaze
In the frost