Take My Hand ft. ArchBishop Lyrics

Take My Hand

Bill Bullard says

Opinion is really the lowest form of human knowledge

It requires no accountability, no understanding

The highest form of knowledge is empathy

For it requires us to suspend our egos and live in another's world

It requires profound purpose larger than the self kind of understanding

Remember the times lost

Remember the names lost

Remember the knowledge drained

Remember the tear that rained

I heard the silent cry

I saw the vibrant die

I saw the hurting eye

I knew I had to try

You were my witness

You beheld my weakness

You strengthened the breathless

You resurrected the lifeless

And now I regretted

And as I reflected

I was reinjected

With the lava of inconsistence

A knowledge so castrated

A triumph to laugh at

A lover so jilted

For a lover unknown

For a scar concealed

Bleeding in a hidden field

A fiend so loved

A friend so unloved

But the same chilling winds

Contented with the cold

Dark, a song so hidden

Come, take my hand

Take my hand

Take my hand and walk the path

Walked by none of this life

Take my hand and walk the path

That flames so orange

And burns of blood

Come, take a walk

Find the hidden path

Come, take a walk

Find the fire in the earth

Watch the leaves swell

And watch the winds whirl

Find the focus of breath

Hidden in the paths of death

The paths are lost

Crisscrossed sounds of silence

Paths of brutality

Lusts bleeding dust

And alas, we are still the hated

The saltless ash

Drained of its fire

And drained of its vitality

Rejuvenating the dying

And re-clustering

Of unclustered lines

Blocks of thoughts

Poeticised by shattered lines

Of wishes, desires, and wishes

Poetry of thoughts thrown into disarray

And regrets tied in one knot

Final knot, single knot

Pain

Come, take my hand

Take my hand

Take my hand and walk the path

Walked by none of this life

Take my hand and walk the path

That flames so orange

And burns of blood

Come, take a walk

Find the hidden path

Come, take a walk

Find the fire in the earth

Watch the leaves swell

And watch the winds whirl

Find the focus of breath

Hidden in the paths of death

There's a stream of milk

And a stream of honey

Both filled with faecal matter

And nauseating the expectations

Of fear, fear

Of the least and famished men

Lines of women and infants

And strings of lean shadows

Short shadows, and long ones

And small feet and bright eyes

Yet, the final song is sung

By the never-ever-victorious victors

For their names and shames

Shamed by inexistence and a void

A void to avoid the same saneness

Until finally, they wish it had happened

Had it happened

In the void

In the darkness

In nothingness

And nothing is bred in it all