"Corron Road" Lyrics

De Profundis

Bold is the Friar’s heart:
Heaving mantle torn apart.
No eyes of gold, no greed, nor fear:
Panic bound a storm is near.

Torn are the Friar’s veins:
Seeing man like painted rain.
To cry to weep, I see a mirror:
There is no hope for men like these.

But I woke up,
And you yelled at the clouds.
To righteous form,
Their pose is pure.
If I had no angst,
No breath for a change,
Then I would be found,
With peace in my blood.