Tragedy's Birth Letra

The crippled oracle breathes his lungs like grit His blackened hands, like maps of ungodly lands Skin as leather, burnt by the sun This world is not for him, this world is not for You nor I When the Gods were young the burden was less It was not grief and it was not fear Who cast the shadow upon our age? Who has crippled the young and blinded their eyes? He counts the hours, days and awful years To when the children stare into the sun The mountains crumble to the sea And our civilisations turn to dust They are turned to dust So slumber watcher, till the spheres Have turned ten and twenty thousand years The crippled oracle breathes, his lungs like grit This world is not for him, this world is not for You nor I...