I hear the wind, it screeches loud as death A sound the cuts the graveyard’s solemn stones I only hear the sharp and vicious breath It whips aloud in living shrieks and moans The wind proceeds to yell in ghastly screams It seeks to cut the bricks that make the walls Each wall remembers every brick that seems To hold it up before it breaks and falls A wind that blows through bricks, that screams and cuts That’s not a normal wind, it knows the way To turn against the strength the wall abuts And call itself the song of judgement day The beauty of the song that tears what’s still Becomes belief in all it seeks to kill.
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