His Name Was Bishop

With the dawn brings vision of the crawling field
Riddled with vain attempts. All in a corpse, so familiar but not my own
This is the difference, between you and I. We are the captive fighters
But cuffs must hold stronger. Stronger than skin
Oh, but until the drops number the floor I’ll pull
Cause I saw the gates, I saw the gates
And they’re guarded by a greedy shield and the most carnal of edge
This is the difference. You’ve left on your own, so forlorn
What have you done?!
You’ve traded the chains, and bought yourself a new crown
Now there are no bars! Now there are no bars!
When lips reveal the knives a victim from light, becomes feed for the parched
Bishop, you’re as far from the cloth as the dogs
And we share that familiar thirst
Bishop, mouths wet with the thought of meat, to tear and taste
But will it quench? Because it never does
Oh our crest is the same, but it’s a lie when you wear it. It’s a lie!
For the chain and the drops lure
And you, the captive fighter, with victory off your tongue
Thats what you did when you made your own crown. That’s what you did!
When the weak looked up to you! But you wore your own crown
You fraud! Light the pyre! A fraud has been found!
Let it be known, this war will not be won without fire, without loss,
or without a fight