First Born - Sorne

We are the last

of our tribe

of our name

hungry wolves

westward bound

we’ve shed our locks of love and rage

laying bone-naked in the sun-soaked

liberty of a numb and

desperate minimum wage

I kill without question

it’s easier that way

cloaked in thorns

nervously gnawing

on my shame and suffering

trained to kill

everything

what have I done?

I slit my father’s throat

with the knife that he gave to me

and the promise of his throne

what have I become?

I tried to be a man

I cover my skin

with paint and blood

and kill upon command

what have I done?

my mind is my tomb

I’ve given my thone to my next of kin

as I wait here in my room

I want to evolve

I’ll suffer in secret it’s easier that way

it’s easier that way