Neophyte Visionary

Grinding the teeth to the nerve, pacing miles in circles
Setting fire to my throat, secluding my world
Sewing meat to the bone, biting nails ‘til they break
Setting fire to my lungs
To sanctify my senses

Imitate, emulate, incarnate
The ones who last
Imitate, emulate, incarnate
Those with means

Laying on the altar, harvesting the fire
Basking in the immolation
A guiding luminance

I know what strings I can pull
So they believe my dance to be steps of a waltz, in time
I am the kingmaker, mover of worlds and men
Keeper of time and grain, author of fate
Sower of wind

Now
To skies
Let rise
Great spires
Built high