Powerless I stand before you The tides of shifting sands of time Cracks, holes and empty promises Like that writhing skin of mine Scattered are the ashes of this momentary sigh Held by the throat I am left on my own Disciple of titles, I have searched for a sign And thus I will leave no heir to the throne In retrospect almost all that we do is a waste Meaningless cells in a meaningless pace Monuments of forgetfulness Surrond me like halos of flies Regrets that bear no fruit at all Are all that's left before I die Scattered are the ashes of this momentary sigh Held by the throat I am left on my own Disciple of titles, I have searched for a sign And thus I will leave no heir to the throne Suit for a king is this effort Remained behind glass, out of sight No one is immortal If our work is embraced by light Scattered are the ashes of this momentary sigh Held by the throat I am left on my own Disciple of titles, I have searched for a sign And thus I will leave no heir to the throne