1. |
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2. |
The Fraying Hour
04:39
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(Cult of The Voice)
Breathe in life once more
Behold the world that came to be
Your absence led to ruin
To the wreckage that you see
Without your voice, The Writer
Had no conscience to awaken
A hundred years have passed
And god has left this land forsaken
(The Voice)
Tell me what you’d ask
(And if I can, I’ll promise you)
Tell me what to say
Set me to this task
(And if I can, I’ll promise you)
Send me on my way
(Cult of the Voice)
The hour here grows desperate
Treading on a fraying rope
You have to help us, V
It seems you are our only hope
The words you might have spoken
And the gifts you had to give
The things that may have saved us
Had The Writer let you live
Find The Weapon
Find, find The Weapon
Find The Weapon
And kill god, baby
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3. |
The Last City
02:37
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|
Don’t let the sensations fool you
Don’t let the temptations rule you
Don’t tarry for too long
All eyes are upon you
Things are too far gone
They’ve been wrong for too long
And do not dare yourself to trust
Stay no longer than you must
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4. |
Streets of Meridian
06:09
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|
Preachers, tell The Father
The Voice lives once again
He walks these streets, moves recklessly
Through our Meridian
Assumptions of safe passage
Into The Library
Will soon lead him into the jaws
Of Father’s Ministry
And we own these streets
That The Voice intruded on
Yeah, we own these streets
Where Father’s will is done
The people know their place
And you will soon know yours
You’ll find the ones who suffer most
Are no friend to your cause
We feed upon their spirit
They labor to our end
And they’ll deliver you to us
For the order we provide them
And we own these streets
You dare to tread upon
Yeah, we own these streets
And Father’s will be done
And Father's will be done
And Father's will be done
The Voice must go no further
Don’t let him go to ground
Our way of life is threatened
Because our hold on this town
Relies upon God’s blessing
To prey upon his herd
The Voice must go no further
Because Father wants a word
And we own these streets
Your silence must be drawn
Yeah, we own these streets
Your blood will flow upon
And we own these streets
By the point of our guns
Yeah, we own these streets
And Father’s will be done
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5. |
Dear Writer II: The Hand
05:19
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|
(The Hand)
Well, have you heard
Dear Writer?
Your Voice lives once again
If he should reach The Library
Our world may see its end
Or was this all of your design?
Have you finally found the steel in your spine?
(The Writer)
Might I confess
My Dear Hand
I’ve no part in this plan
Though to myself, I do admit
That it would serve my end
In secret I can be his guide
In saving his life, perhaps I can save mine
Did you get the answer that you want?
Is my life to end enduring every taunt?
If you’re tired of my presence
Complete my obsolescence
When I’m gone, will this world linger on?
(The Hand)
Make no mistake
Dear Writer
I’m watching every step
I’ve given you this dying world
Now I demand his end
He must not learn the truth of this
Nor ever learn that you remain my puppet
Do as I bid
Dear Writer
Let the Father show my wrath
The Voice’s death be known to all
Throughout Meridian
A dying world borne out of fear
It’s time make that clear
(The Writer)
If I cannot stay your wrath
I will write to give The Voice a path
Although strength I lack
Quill sharp as a dagger in your back
What fear itself fears, I invoke
The truth about this world we wrote
The lives we took be heaven-sent
When you take mine…
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6. |
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|
(Father)
The faithful named me “Bastard”
Because I refuse to lie
Not even when the world did end
Just as I prophesied
Tis by my grace, my flock survives
These gifts I have to offer
I bring order and salvation
For I am a loving Father
(V)
Your congregation suffers
While you seem to live quite well
(Father)
The tithe be paid, for lives I’ve saved
For sparing them this hell
Our ministry permitted
By your Writer, in his name
We merely preach his will
Who are you to lay such blame?
(V)
I must see the Writer dead
(Father)
That won’t change a goddamn thing
(V)
I will see the Writer’s end
(Father)
That won’t end their suffering
(Both)
This was always writ in stone
Sins too great to be atoned
(V)
Your pulpit starts to splinter
Your flock straying from your path
Emboldened, now they're offering me
Shelter from your wrath
The whole unholy edifice
Comes crashing at your feet
You brought this upon yourself
Now they meet you in your streets
(Father)
A million for the hangman
And a million left to mourn
A million to remind the rest
Of what station they were born
With nerve, in here, you’ve wandered
And with nerve, you’ll meet your end!
To those who pull your strings
My flock shall not be tangled in them!
(V)
It seems Meridian objects
(Father)
Do not let them break our lines!
(V)
The Weapon and The Writer next
(Father)
They won’t be taking me alive!
(Both)
This was always set in stone
Justice reaped for cruelty sown
(Father)
Writer, guide me, aim be true
The Library will be his tomb
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7. |
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|
Where have they gone
Dear Writer?
The people that you love?
Did they walk away because
Of what you have become?
This world is what you made it be
It’s hard to believe that they would have agreed
What did they say
Dear Writer?
Did they tell you you were wrong?
I worry that this is just what
We both were all along
How could you let it come to this?
What happened after me that you’d accept it?
How is this the world that we wanted?
What can I do
Dear Writer?
Can I save everyone?
When last we met, I didn’t make
A difference at all
Is that how you became this way?
Did you feel as if no one wants to be saved?
How is this the ending that you wanted?
What good am I?
Maybe you were right
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8. |
||||
|
(Librarian)
Welcome to the Library
May I be of assistance?
I couldn’t help but overhear
You seem to be in distress
(V)
I never asked to be brought back
Nor burdened with this mission
My strings are never my own
Nor pulled for my ambitions
I only tried to do what’s right
And now a city’s burning
And every time I try to help
I only wind up hurting
(Librarian)
Maybe you feel as if
Your efforts have been worthless
When everything has gone amiss
It’s hard to see your purpose
(Both)
There is no telling what yet lies ahead
The past is ever-present
In the future that we dread
You don’t have to go alone
Or carry all that weight on your own
Because we’re all just stories in the end
(V)
No control in life before
So why would this be different?
My only worth, to hunt The Writer
Once I’ve found The Weapon
(Librarian)
Good intentions may be enough
For actions in fair weather
No weapon is as strong
As when we act together
(Both)
There is no telling what yet lies ahead
The past is ever-present
In the future that we dread
You don’t have to go alone
Or carry all that weight on your own
Because we’re all just stories in the end
You don't have to go alone
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9. |
The Dying Dream
05:17
|
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Dear Voice, I beg you, listen
And let the truth be heard
The truth of this whole world
The purpose that it’s served
A flash of a life distorted
And regrets amplified
The failure of a would-be savior
Who never really died
A century of fiction
A self-inflicted scheme
Our greatest fears made manifest
Within the dying dream
My presence, just a shadow
Of The Writer that you knew
Who lives on while your own life ebbs
And so you have to choose
The fear that guided his Hand
Must surely be undone
For you to leave this dying world
The two must become one
I hope you can forgive him
That he can be redeemed
Use my strength, reject this fear
And leave this dying dream
Think about the ones we’ve lost
The ones we feared to lose
The ones that fear has taken
And the ones who had to choose
I am awake
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10. |
||||
|
Now that I know the truth
There is one thing left to do
A choice, a chance to live again
But first, this dream must come to an end
The enemy has a name
The Hand, God, Fear
I’ll move on and take the blame
For whatever happens here
Now as I face this fear
My way forward becomes clear
I will call upon Meridian
Hear my voice, join me at the end
The enemy has a name
The Hand, Fear, God
Just one last time, be brave
Your tomorrow’s already gone
|
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11. |
Godkiller
03:22
|
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12. |
Last Words
06:14
|
|||
|
The stars are first to go
And soon Meridian will follow
Then the rest of the world
Will be gone before you know
Now we arrive at my choice
Dear Writer, can you hear your Voice?
A part of me wants to sleep
If I come back, will you rejoice?
Maybe these words will serve as my last
A hero in my own mind
In my dying, what we wanted in life
Could go out on a high note
But there’s so much I’d leave behind
Now we arrive at my choice
Will I be heard or is it all just noise?
The Writer must understand
That I am more than just his Voice
Maybe these words will serve as my last
An end is always scary, but
Beginnings can be, too
My final rest compels me
And I don’t know what to do
Maybe these words will serve as my last
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