The Circular Ruins

I guide myself through labour, it's heavy on my spine
I guide myself through labour, at the end of a 40-week decline

'Tis strange to feel the body convulse in phantom pains
Every night I tremble before the sow harnessed with chains

I sleep inside the enclosure, unaware of my name
With the circular ruins as a minimal frame

The moon's a voice of reason, ascending from her tomb
As a shadowy descendant of mine is forming in the womb

I envision the organs, then imagine the bones
I push past the frustration beneath the terrible stones
Fallen angel or Adam, the reward for my grind
Seek the circular ruins, leave creation behind

You were forged in fire, you won't burn
You were forged in fire, you won't burn
You were forged in fire, you won't burn
You were forged in fire, you won't burn
I, too, was forged in fire and can't burn
I, too, was forged in fire and can't burn



Credits
Writer(s): Vebjorn Numme, Alexander Lundemo, Jonas Mjoen
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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