Thrones

Fallen notes with no tone
Form words to save thrones
As their habits will grow
Fear for these false tales of matter that seek my gold
On the road to the foreign world
The ground knows to swallow
Up any threats to common folk
Here for proposed terms of fracture within my bones

We all know to loathe
These grave stones and stolen robes
When we all get old
The veil falls, the story's told
Fade to the unknown

Old clothes and bullet holes
Shape worlds and claim homes
As these habits still grow
Stay for these lost forms of life in these things I own

We all know to loathe
These grave stones and stolen robes
When we all get old
The veil falls, the story's told
We're all shown to loathe
These grave stones, your stolen robes
When we all get old
Your brain dulls, your story's closed
You fade to the unknown

Devastating thoughts could break his spell again
Never formed a way to feel about the end
A fool in the ground, a distant tale
A serviced seance throughout the night
His mistress put salt in his tea
Born in a fight
Needless but honestly, on this day
I won't come back to real, to your wide-eyed former life
You bestow mass appeal, to a different kind of mind