The Lines in My Hand

We are dying in the wake of gods and decrees remain arcane

And everything around us is a consequence of pain



The writings on the wall depict a truth that no one reads

A government of puppets blinded by another creed



Burning voice of insanity

Nothing is the same

Barren lands for the idle man

Find all the lines in your hand



Blinding storms are surrounding us

Take control

In our caps, poisoned wine

Find all the lines in your hands