[Verse 1] In the valley of loneliness, the birds never sing. In this deep, unyielding hollow, the sun never rises— darkness bleeds from stormcloud gray to obsidian black. Days stretch into oblivion; nights refuse to end. The wind howls, stealing warmth from your very soul. The floor is cold stone, the walls jagged with sorrow. [Verse 2] The rivers here are frozen veins of lead. No water flows to quench the burning thirst for rest. Silence is a mountain, heavy on the chest, crushing every word before it can be caught. The sky is a shroud that never lifts its hem, we are the fragments of what was lost to time. [Verse 3] Each step forward is a sink into the mire. The air is thin, a ghost of what we need to breathe. Your hands reach out but only touch the mist, a hollow space where comfort used to reside. The landscape scarred by winters that won't cease, carving lines of grief into the barren earth. [Outro] The echo is the only voice that answers back. Deep in the hollow. (So alone) Obsidian black.
