The Seer
By Gillespie
The Seer
Verse 1
He walks the streets in the dead of night,
A saviour cloaked in pale moonlight.
Whispers haunt his weary mind,
Of future crimes and twisted signs.
He sees the world through fractured glass,
A glimpse of doom in every pass.
The faces blur, but he feels their pain,
A cursed gift drives him insane.
Chorus
He says, “I see what you don’t see,
A thread of fate, a tragedy.
I’m the hand that stops the tide,
I’ll save the world so you won’t cry.”
But who decides what’s wrong or right,
When visions blind the man at night?
Verse 2
He found a man with a gentle smile,
And yet he paused to watch awhile.
A flicker, a flash, a bloody scene,
A crime to come, or just a dream?
The knife he carried felt so light,
His justice served beneath the night.
Another soul he swore to save,
Another name marked for the grave.
Chorus
He says, “I see what you don’t see,
A thread of fate, a tragedy.
I’m the hand that stops the tide,
I’ll save the world so you won’t cry.”
But who decides what’s wrong or right,
When visions blind the man at night?
Bridge
Oh, the burden of the seer’s mind,
To walk the line of truth and lies.
He claims to fight for peace and love,
But blood now stains his leather gloves.
Each face he sees, a fractured tale,
A prophecy, or just a veil?
The weight grows heavy, his spirit frays,
As shadows swallow the light of day.
Verse 3
One fateful night, he met his match,
A mirror’s truth, a cruel dispatch.
A glimpse of himself in another’s stare,
A broken man with a haunted glare.
His visions faltered, his heart grew cold,
Had he been wrong? Had the truth been sold?
Now the seer walks alone,
A king of dust, a shattered throne.
Chorus
He says, “I see what you don’t see,
A thread of fate, a tragedy.
I’m the hand that stops the tide,
I’ll save the world so you won’t cry.”
But who decides what’s wrong or right,
When visions blind the man at night?
Final Verse
The seer fades into the mist,
A tale of power lost, dismissed.
A warning carved in the sands of time:
Beware the man who trusts his mind.
For truth is fragile, and sight deceives,
And prophecy’s a web on leaves.
The seer’s shadow lingers still,
A caution born of fractured will.