Dormant form, atone, reform to perform,
The storm that lies within,
You speak, I listen to the words,
But all I hear is the storm,
Supersonic winds blow to beat you down,
In the wild away from prying eyes.
Abuse the righteous tones and blind
The mice that follow you.

Your voices that speak, force your opinions
Upon my skin.
I feel the dirt you intend me to be.
Call me a sinner to make me repent.
Because my soul might be fed to the serpent.
Do you hear the winds? Those eery howls within your soul?
Those punishing cold chills in your mind?
The abuse of a forgotten deity turned on the innocent (ones).

Dormant form atones and awakens,
Vengeful words spat for the wicked,
Anger fuelled by the weakness
Of your own deranged convictions of your deity.
You've torn my body apart, shamed me.
Telling me all my faults will lead me to hell.
Spat on my face and told me that I
Need to face the wrath...

Of the storm that lies within.

 
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