Whitechapel - Lost Boy

As I approach to the grasslands, I see a golden light
The moon never lies to a wicked eye
For my serpent tongue can only taste the flesh of an only son
Let my tainted blood flow through the parallels of our orphan veins
No man could ever understand the depths of our brain
Take a look at yourself
It's inconsequential to stare into the eyes of a lost boy
Don't let the truth silence our voice