Frost - Rare Monk

Brush the ice away

Don’t think of virtue, only control

Sleep, indoctrinate

Time is a virus, tighten my hold

Occam’s razorblade

Discard the complex, simple and bold

Brush the ash away

Your thoughts betray the death of your soul

Go slow, when all the strength decays from your bones

Go slow, when all the strength decays from your bones

Brush the ice away

The metal’s colder now

Occam’s hideaway

Your logic masks the death of control

Go slow, when all the strength decays from your bones

Go slow, when all the strength decays from your bones

Go slow, when all the strength decays from your bones

Go slow, Your logic masks the death of your soul