Every day, a silent sorrow weeps,
Lost in wander, hearts that can't sleep.
This cursed, yet blessed, our sacred ground,
Thorns sing red, in their holy round.

Absolute stillness, the wind's sigh fades,
Your silence speaks of lonely shades.
Ghosts tear through the daylight's gleam,
Or twilight falls on common dream.

What's to disbelieve, what's to unsay?
At world's end, a wall stands high and gray.
What's to abandon, what's to doubt?
Compassion's purgatory, heaven's false bout.

My bones rest here, in this cursed earth,
My blood flows free, in this blessed birth.
Here, right and wrong, they stand so clear,
Goodness and evil, ever near.

Too many secrets, can't be forgiven,
Once human hearts, now beastly driven.
By madness strange, and unknown force,
Our fall from grace, in darkest course.

What's to disbelieve, what's to unsay?
At world's end, a wall stands high and gray.
What's to abandon, what's to doubt?
Compassion's purgatory, heaven's false bout.

Too many secrets, can't be forgiven,
Once human hearts, now beastly driven.
By madness strange, and unknown force,
Our fall from grace, in darkest course.

What's to disbelieve, what's to unsay?
At world's end, a wall stands high and gray.
What's to abandon, what's to doubt?
Compassion's purgatory, heaven's false bout.

For seventy-seven lines, our sins are written,
By God's own hand, in fire and Witten.
In this place, where shadows and light entwine,
We seek the truth, in every line.

What's to disbelieve, what's to unsay?
At world's end, a wall stands high and gray.
What's to abandon, what's to doubt?
In this cursed, yet blessed, our hearts now shout.

In this place, where we all belong,
Cursed and blessed, our song will long.
For seventy-seven lines, we'll sing,
Of love and loss, in this sacred ring.