Wither

The fire in these eyes they flair and fade, and move just as they may

It’s warm and its cold each passing day, and mute the thing I want to say

Why do I do just what I hate, and cast my joy away

I’m weak I’m strong, don’t know where I belong, and all in a single day

See the poor man arising, let the weak say I’m strong

Let the Orphan rise up, and know where they belong

Let the shadows within me, go running in fear

At their apocalypse coming, the son of man drawing near

Come traveler by, hear what I say

And let me not delay, the grass it whithers, the flower fades

My joy and my pain the same

See the poor man arising, let the weak say I’m strong

Let the Orphan rise up, and know where they belong

Let the shadows within me, go running in fear

At their apocalypse coming, the son of man drawing near

Come traveler by, hear what I say

And let me not delay, the grass it whithers, the flower fades

My joy and my pain

The same