Vessel Deserted

I've made it months, even years, in solitude's embrace

But nothing has shown me what I cannot create

Stuck on this compendium of mortality

A line without a flaw

I can never bring the life back to his withered breast

Dead at 18 years, now my head's a fucking mess

Everyone is waiting for the end of the line

Immutable truth

There is nothing that can take what is dead

There is nothing that can take what is dead and make it green

There is nothing that can take what is dead and convince it to grow

Vessel is deserted (dirt)

Capillaries dry (holds)

The world soldiers onward (no)

The line is absolute (sway)

Lament's only verdict (over)

The line is absolute (me)

No sway over me