Chosen rival, fated to be heaven's hand is choking the Burdened, fated to be heaven's hand.
I watch the sun's birth bestow its pardon; night pulls its daughter down. A simple thing, to thirst for an answer. Hope dies in silence now.
Why have you chosen? Am I your heretic? You might have saved yourself.
Chosen rival, fated to be heaven's hand is choking the Burdened, fated to be heaven's hand.
I fix my eyes on the horizon; the burden fills me. I prayed for not a thing, feared what I became – yet burned your ribbons. I clear the smoke, look to the boughs; the burden fills me. I lured the pain, found my soul - yet burned your ribbons.
You have baptized me – placed your hand onto my head, pushed me underneath the waters. I breathe, drowning in all of your fears. I want none of you! Still, this burden takes me. …I want none of you. Still, this burden makes me.
You left me choiceless, left me alone. To be heaven's hand – a saint – condemned in me.
Chosen rival, fated to be heaven's hand is choking the Burdened, fated to be heaven's hand.
You've probably heard that our fellow Columbus-ite, Ben Sharp, is a goddamned genius. We challenge you to dislike this, our favorite of his albums. Sleepers Awake
Half our band's (the Chris's) other band, with less vocals and more doom. Seriously good stuff, but don't just take our biased word for it. Think for yourself, listen to White Wolves. Sleepers Awake