WESTERN SON: The Boy Named Orakle

I o f I V

Blood washes these eyes with violence and pain

because people like me will never forget the torments of youth

we must live through them again and again

and I see the road stretched out before my feet

How many times must I travel this path

before I finally discover where I am going?

how many times will I fire this weaponry

before I am finally free of the demons that torment me?

In the Lost Cities, abandoned by time,

I get down on my knees and pray to the Gods for mercy

they only laugh and say my name:

Orakle, Orakle, Orakle