What Insomnia Wrote...

There's one thing that stops my breath before the fall. The taste of concrete as I grind my teeth through the wind. What will break this death, as shards of glass cut our hands. We'll make holes in this temple. Allow the King to make way. Gates are open, the bridge is down. The witch is hung from the tower, the slaves are cut free. BEHOLD GLORY, in this unbelievable nightmare of a dream. God bless the east and the west. And all Ghosts that have not yet rest.