Testo Seneca's Silence

Oh, it touches, itches, bites, and wastes the time
Trying not to be in love with what is mine
With sirens singing

All the big things that we hate, we cry about
Will turn to gold if we just leave them out

Then let's hope His silence
Is with us tonight
I'll bring
The camera
Can you hold the light?

The dusty pages of the book that wakes the dead
Say don't hold dear the times that we once had
It's a pleasure hoping for the things to come
A little patience and the blood will run

Then let's hope
His silence
Is with us tonight
I'll bring The poison
Can you bring the knife?