Magistrates dream of plague
Tongues loll in anticipation
You are awake in their darker visions
Drool slips from grining mouths
The plague is forced on us all
Is it there? Are they there?
Shouts of fact abound
But whispers of truth burn through
Is it there? Are they there?
Glisten
Syndic Calls
Carry
Llévame
Hym
From Sinking
1000 Shards
Altered Course
Carry
Ghost Key
False Light
Way Through Woven Branches
Grinning Mouths
Hall Of The Dead
Not In Rivers, But In Drops
Stone To Wake A Serpent
The Pliable Foe
Blanca Estrella
Divine Mother (The Tower Crumbles)
Sem Paz e Ciência