Lyrics

[Tim Browne] The line's gone dead, the wind's gone still, the trail's gone cold The walls came down, the mind it reels, the heart's on hold The rest is posthumous Deserted miles of wasted light Distended by encroaching night A ration for the wolves A monograph of mangled lies I swear I swear I swear I tried To spin this straw back into gold The worst intentions are buried between The needles I say and the daggers I mean The еnd of the world passed by with a whimper No blood from thе stone, each sin to the sinner I won't be coming back for you [Tim Browne, Deanna Belos, and Both] I'm a shape drawn without a form I'm a shade with no color shown I'm surrounded and I'm so alone A solitaire in crowded homes I speak the language of the last year's words I reap the whirlwind of a heart unstirred The first truth, always so absurd The hell it goes on undeterred The worst intentions are buried between The depth of my pride and the skin of my teeth The end of the world passed by with a whimper No blood from the stone, each sin to the sinner I won't be coming back Oh, I won't be coming back I won't be coming back for you