Feigned, the image of a world unfolds
Deluded but divine
It sees us mocking gifted grace
A stolen self will not succumb
See your face in the mirror
It's your image on a face of another
See your principles constantly wither
What is this will but a riddle?
In splendor we were born again
Renewed and whole, a chance reborn
Sustenance, we've found
Yet we tear it from our minds
So find a way through these foes
With your tears scattered around the wound
It scares us not, this path's design
Run these demons gone amok
Astray

SOUMETTRE LES CORRECTIONS