The Foe Sublime کے بول

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