The tears of life have a sound, different than all others
With no beginning nor a finality, they have no mother
Their cost is sanity, every one remembered now gone
Their purpose unknown, all I know has become wrong
I wait upon soaring vultures above, circling dead flesh
They've waited for my death, heat stealing my breath
Instead I know that the will wait longer, as I stir
Crawling to the edge of existence, ending time
The end bears no resemblance to fate
Vultures hunger and I offer
I am the sacrifice
Upon an altar
