Eventually they'll come Your name has been called Out for aeons To claim the blood And salvage what remains For once we've seen the fragile nature Of things behind these windows Where nothing lives And nothing ends And seen what drives the hopeless In between their closing yellowed walls The day has come You are the fatalist The day has come You are the fatalist You walk on soil that dreams of blood How can we fight fatigue? In pre-historic sorrow? When all is preordained The cycle never ends What once had been an endless realm Of possibility and dream Now laid to waste and ruin Laid to waste again You wash your hands in blood You squander time We borrow from eternity Is it another lame excuse? The day has come You are the fatalist The day has come You are the fatalist You walk on soil that dreams of blood You are the fatalist If nothing changes Then nothing ends
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