The Words (Unspoken)

Confusion mauling your fate
Deserted that planet of disgrace
Leave behind a tear for us
We can recreate the face

The words come out
They pour from the mouth
The words are about
And you're not prepared

To make a amends with an elite
God of existence feeling hate
The reconciliation will be too late
One last breath before the gate

The words come out
They leave you in doubt
And the gore is spread about
And you're not prepared

Thrashing inside of your cold head
Knowing that you're dead
You can't except your fate
Not one single god makes amends

The words spoken quietly
We are dust, majesty
The words spiral in confusion
And you're not prepared