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Hanging Garden

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Hanging Garden

My Rise Is Your Fall

Cursed be our mother the Earth
The harlot would breed no more
She took the seed oh many a time
Perfected by her firstborn son

We kept her on a leash of thorns
Made obedient with the sternest of bonds

Cursed be our mother the Earth
Her veins have run dry
Her loins, now barren, ridden of life
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Her breast has long since withered away

We kept her on a leash of thorns
Made obedient with the sternest of bonds
Yet ever weaker has the bloodline grown
And ill spent the seed

She kept her silence all these years
Until the end