Orbital decay, sadle the right horse The sickness of their weakness Their pain values high And our lives seems so empty Upon the savage shores Laughing
Waiting For Your Ego Waiting To Break Free A Ball Where Noone Sees Behind The Artificial Eyes A Mask Weaved By Thought Hands How Do I Stand A Chance
A Photo In A Frame Old I Dwell Here Sad The Clock Keeps Ticking Still Blisfully Ignorant The Mourning In My Light A Passage Through My Fright The Shape
As She Enters The Church In Her White Dress Ready To Burst The Whole Crowd Spelled By Her Charm Not Knowing She Cause Such Harm Cuttling To Hhe Fathers
Illustrated thoughts undescribable foams Shadows of blue scrapes Selfish, unprevailed, to everflowing extinct Cells, cocooned, protected Tissues, illustrated
