Cult Of The Dead

Cult of the Dead

Death is the most precious gift we were ever to receive

We are taught to cherish it, as we are kept on a leash

Attached to the chain of ancestry, immemorial and incomplete

Death is a fact, and yet death is a matter of faith

If we didn't believe in it, how could we endure the pain?

We were given a chance

To rise above our despair

Now is the time to reinvent ourselves

We'll pay our tributes to the cult of the dead

Now is the time to reinvent ourselves

We'll pay our tributes to the cult of the dead

A legion of ghosts, to which we obey

Weighs on the brain of the living

Pulling the strings of our fate

Should we submit, or try and redeem the past?

Our forebears silently observe

Eager to see us act, for better or for worse

But it is up to us to decide how much we can endure

Gazing backwards, we move ahead, we'll let the dead bury their dead

We'll let the dead bury their dead

We were given a chance

To rise above our despair

Now is the time to reinvent ourselves

We'll pay our tributes to the cult of the dead

Now is the time to reinvent ourselves

We'll pay our tributes to the cult of the dead

Now is the time to reinvent ourselves

We'll pay our tributes to the cult of the dead

Death is the most precious gift we were ever to receive

We are taught to cherish it, as we are kept on a leash

Attached to the chain of ancestry, immemorial and incomplete

Death is a fact, and yet death is a matter of faith

If we didn't believe in it, how could we endure the pain?

We will let the dead bury their dead

We were given a chance

To rise above our despair

Now is the time to reinvent ourselves

We'll pay our tributes to the cult of the dead

Now is the time to reinvent ourselves

We'll pay our tributes to the cult of the dead

Now is the time to reinvent ourselves

We'll pay our tributes to the cult of the dead