Banks of Lethe

Roaming the deep
Looking for a soul to keep
Promises flimsy
They've Fallen prey

Signed is the covenant
Caught in the weaver's web

A taste of deathlessness
To mask
The smell of decay

Lead, the rats tailing
Towards eternal wasting

Seizing the ferry
Stream of torn fates
In seclusion
We keep the void at bay

Binding a few
To save the many
We are watched with disdain
As they cross Lethe

Signed is the covenant
Caught in the weaver's web

A taste of deathlessness
To mask
The smell of decay

On we trail
Towards
The fangs of ruin

Do not fear the end
Fear that it never comes