The Beacon - Vulture Industries

Oh brother tell me please have we gone wrong

Did our trails split

And have they been for long?

My back it hurts like hell

Not really feeling well

Like under some strange spell I am

Not really sure if I can trust my sense of sight nor smell

Ahead a distant gleam

A golden sparkling stream

Oh brother tell me please is this the rigt way

Or is my spirit dreadfully astray

Your voice turning faint

Your words becoming quaint

As the shadows grow tall

Enveloping your call

Ahead a distant gleam

A golden sparkling stream

Beckon sore feet

Like moths we follow…

Like moths we follow…

Like moths we follow…

Like moths we follow…

Like moths we follow…

A golden sparkling stream

Beckon sore feet

Like moths we follow

A guiding light through the night

Beckon sore feet

Like moths we follow

Into an all engulfing omnivorous fire

Circled by shades all eager to be set alight

Chanting in frantic pulse tarnished souls aspire

To make their way into the light

Their transcended right

Shadows growing longer

The air becoming thick

Miasma growing stronger

They are torching books

It smells like flesh

But they have words

To make it stink less

All worn and tossed out like a cheap dress

All worn and tucked into the

Like moths we follow…

Like moths we follow…

Like moths we follow…

Like moths we follow…

A golden sparkling stream

Beckon sore feet

Like moths we follow

A guiding light through the night

Beckon sore feet

Like moths we follow

I’d sell you all if I could

But you’re worth… nothing