The Bastard Sons of Yesterday

The tears of our brothers, no sight of our fathers, we’re treading upon a baron path. We march forward in daylight and seek solace come twilight. Nothing will ever come. Our hope is rationed, our souls forgotten. Under these skies, our words our empty, our pain exceeds our hope. This frail existence is all we know, I’m waiting for death to swallow me hole. Shrouded in the mist of loneliness, with holes on the soles of our feet, lets drown ourselves in the wishing well. Close our eyes, escape this hell. Destroy the stories that we’ll never tell. Close your eyes, escape this hell. The Bastard Sons of Yesterday.