Untitled

I walked the hall of mirrors, looking for the face
That whispered accusations from some hidden place
I searched the burning garden, I combed the frozen shore
Until I found the stranger standing at my door

And he wore my eyes like lanterns
He spoke my voice like rain
The demon I’d been running from
Was calling out my name


I am the wound, I am the wine
The serpent coiled around the vine
I am the lock, I am the key
The one who binds and sets me free
The devil at the crossroads, the angel in the storm
I wear the face of shadow and I keep the dreamer warm


The light came down like judgment, burning through the night
It poured itself to nothing trying to win the fight
But darkness isn’t absence—it’s the womb where stars are born
The soil that holds the seedling, the silence before the horn

And I saw the blazing armies
Exhaust their golden spears
While the patient void remained
Unchanged across the years


I am the wound, I am the wine
The serpent coiled around the vine
I am the lock, I am the key
The one who binds and sets me free
The devil at the crossroads, the angel in the storm
I wear the face of shadow and I keep the dreamer warm


The light consumes itself to shine
The darkness simply holds the line
What burns must turn to ash and fade
But night was never made to be afraid


So lay your judgment down now, let the torches rest
The guardian and tempter share a single chest
The fire needs the darkness just to know it’s bright
And I have learned to love the keeper of my night


I am the question, I’m the prayer
The hollow and the fullness there
The voice that damns, the hand that saves
The one who digs and fills the graves…​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

70’s, psychedelic rock, trippy distortion, hypnotic, male voice