White Lands of Empathica

The end.

The songwriter’s dead.
The blade fell upon him
Taking him to the white lands
Of Empathica
Of Innocence
Empathica
Innocence

Home

The dreamer and the wine
Poet without a rhyme
A widowed writer torn apart by chains of hell

One last perfect verse
Is still the same old song
Oh Christ how I hate what I have become

Take me home

Get away, run away, fly away
Lead me astray to dreamer’s hideaway
I cannot cry ’cause the shoulder cries more
I cannot die, I, a whore for the cold world
Forgive me
I have but two faces
One for the world
One for God
Save me
I cannot cry ’cause the shoulder cries more
I cannot die, I, a whore for the cold world

My home was there ‘n then
Those meadows of heaven
Adventure-filled days
One with every smiling face

Please, no more words
Thoughts from a severed head
No more praise
Tell me once my heart goes right

Take me home

Get away, run away, fly away
Lead me astray to dreamer’s hideaway
I cannot cry ’cause the shoulder cries more
I cannot die, I, a whore for the cold world
Forgive me
I have but two faces
One for the world
One for God
Save me
I cannot cry ’cause the shoulder cries more
I cannot die, I, a whore for the cold world

The Pacific

Sparkle my scenery
With turquoise waterfall
With beauty underneath
The Ever Free

Tuck me in beneath the blue
Beneath the pain, beneath the rain
Goodnight kiss for a child in time
Swaying blade my lullaby

On the shore we sat and hoped
Under the same pale moon
Whose guiding light chose you
Chose you all

”I’m afraid. I’m so afraid.
Being raped again, and again, and again
I know I will die alone.
But loved.

You live long enough to hear the sound of guns,
long enough to find yourself screaming every night,
long enough to see your friends betray you.

For years I’ve been strapped unto this altar.
Now I only have 3 minutes and counting.
I just wish the tide would catch me first and give me a death I always longed for.”

Dark Passion Play

2^nd robber to the right of Christ
Cut in half - infanticide
The world will rejoice today
As the crows feast on the rotting poet

Everyone must bury their own
No pack to bury the heart of stone
Now he’s home in hell, serves him well
Slain by the bell, tolling for his farewell

The morning dawned, upon his altar
Remains of the dark passion play
Performed by his friends without shame
Spitting on his grave as they came

Get away, run away, fly away
Lead me astray to dreamer’s hideaway
I cannot cry ’cause the shoulder cries more
I cannot die, I, a whore for the cold world
Forgive me
I have but two faces
One for the world
One for God
Save me
I cannot cry ’cause the shoulder cries more
I cannot die, I, a whore for the cold world

Today, in the year of our Lord 2005,
Tuomas was called from the cares of the world.
He stopped crying at the end of each beautiful day.
The music he wrote had too long been without silence.

He was found naked and dead,
With a smile in his face, a pen and 1000 pages of erased text.”

Save me…

Mother and Father

Be still, my son
You’re home
Oh when did you become so cold?
The blade will keep on descending
All you need is to feel my love

Search for beauty, find your shore
Try to save them all, bleed no more
You have such oceans within
In the end
I will always love you

The beginning.