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Anchors (Cry Of The Afflicted)

Hold close your treasures The very measure of your value here Within these shining walls Now, raise them higher They'll last forever if you're careful now If you lock them all, lock them down Wrapped in Your precious cloak Spun from gold, spun from gold Useless, you're reaching back Dead and cold, dead and cold This weight you've trusted Polished and sacred has you safe, secure You lie in soothing sleep One flash, it's happened A last desperate moment Now the weight falls free But have you sunk too deep, to breathe Wrapped in your precious cloak Spun from gold, spun from gold Useless, you're reaching back Dead and cold, dead and cold Your chest is tight, held in death's embrace As your eyes lift up, can you see your escape? One last fleeting glance, at the shine below One last freedom chance, surrendered to the cold This useless gold Wrapped in your precious cloak Spun from gold, spun from gold Useless, you're reaching back Dead and cold, dead and cold