Texty: Light This City. Remains Of The Gods. Your Devoted Victim.

As a child,
monsters always haunted your panicked dreams.
This time you're the vampire,
and though it's cruel reality,
you're still trapped in a suffocating fantasy,
living out your most gruesome reverie.
When will you let me wake you
from this painful dreaming?
Don't you realize you're killing in your sleep?
With claws of carelessness and fangs of apathy,
ripping holes in the flesh
of the people you once esteemed,
just to smell the freshness
of their final breaths and their blood.
Yours went stale a long time ago.

You'll change your addiction
to appease your conviction.
You've built quite the tolerance
for your previous obsession,
but your new devotion
requires some compassion;
in the face of diversity,
your tolerance is lacking.

Now you've indulged
your feral temptations.
You've awakened, and you say
that you've had a vision of enlightenment,
that you wish to be cleansed and saved.
Wash yourself clean in a blessed stream.
But there's no such thing;
and it's never that easy.
Innocence can't be bought
with a confession.
You can't just empty your sins
into a pit of salvation.
The guilt eats you just
as you devoured your family.
Why do you need a savior
when you could rescue yourself
from the fear that drives your hate?

You'll change your addiction
to appease your conviction.
You've built quite the tolerance
for your previous obsession,
but your new devotion
requires some compassion;
in the face of diversity,
your tolerance is lacking.

What did I do to
deserve such silence,
such violence?
On your quest for self-destruction,
you destroy us all.
As you feast on the last of your own blood,
and taste the venom left behind,
you consume my desiccated heart,
and drain the consciousness from my mind.
Take pity on me,
your devoted victim.
Take pity on me;
this sacrifice won't set you free.
Beware of the soul-saver;
he's not your friend.
Why do you ask His forgiveness?
I'm the one you've mistreated.
Now ask yourself,
are you truly born again?
Your pedestal reeks of death.
A thick film of denial now coats your veins.
There are hardly any left to penetrate.
You had a life that refused to wait
for you to make another mistake.
You're bound to make another mistake.