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Provocating the rage that lurks deep inside.
A mentality derived of a hatred from the dark.
The pain that burdens this once, a thriving heart.
Now left, bitter and cold, in the dead of the night.

Now left, bitter and cold, in the dead of the night.

Envisioning blood red.
Enseud in the morningrise.
A phantasm of hostility.
Floating amongst the slaves.
Labouring within this sphere.
A delirium of false hope.
Arisen to behold the tragedy that lies.

Now left, bitter and cold, in the dead of the night.

Provocations Dawn.

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