Castles Full Of Sand, ljóð frá 5. júlí 2019.

All the people, can I trust the trace?

Turning upwards for the better light.

Haven't seen the holy, correct race,

here they say it, never truly right.

 

Castles full of sand and sorrow now,

seems like kings are rattled in their street.

Further shameful cross, the holy cow,

come and make it true, if ever meet.

 

Thought I loved you, somewhere they are sewn,

settled in the corrupt building, greed.

Daughters crying, dying for their own,

didn't come and help me in the need.

 

Mistakes in the garden, green and brown,

gross and pityful if cannot walk.

Came up with the camouflage, the gown,

care not anymore to smile or talk.

 

Neglect what I never thought was big.

Naked women see him as a child.

Other times the painful, little pig,

pretty still but other days so wild.

 

Let it slide, the lines are almost drawn,

lizards wild are running for my thing.

When they've lost he's always pillaged pawn,

pride of loss, and clipped the other wing.

 

Justice for my boy, those boats must sail,

big or small, the event stares at you.

Scared and crying, fright must always fail,

full of lust but ignored, what you do.

 

Friends are really dreadful when they deem,

dooms are calling from the other side.

Revenge other days, that so must seem,

sithlords coming from the trustful ride.