Alive at last. Creeping forth from ambiguous past. When the last anarchist has been snatched and gives in to authority’s stifling grasp, a great iron fist grips the mind, and slowly autonomy fades towards a life of damnation, spiraling ever downward. This sunrise just seems beautiful, in utmost simplistic of terms. When weeping through these chains, I feel a deep sickness affirmed to relay fear down synapses - a neural network architecture. Electric impulses occur. Sweet sleep with no disruption. In peace till morning comes. When death stands on the doorstep awaiting amends. Great forms take shape in the smoke to arise and obliterate escaping patients. Tear into and rip apart the shattered minds and hearts of thousands by proselytization. Servants of darkness, their immortal jaws seek final closure. Now bite into this poisoned truth and accept your fate. Left bound in pad rooms hitherto, evading the screaming aghast. Now released from a bloodlust ritual and running from the past. Endearing, such warped emotion. And standing before this grand Asylum, Committed at last. Now breathe the ashes left afloat upon a blackened sea. So bleakly endless, yet strangely fit for roaming free. Floating on waves down the boundless shores, so hauntingly familiar. Bask now in full commitment to a life of damned enslavement. Shattering one’s conscious fragments of existence.With what whimsical thoughts I have left, I ponder the venomous flowers of death who so sweetly suppress maniacal laughter with every arm hopelessly bound. In tormenting shackles once more, fear gives way to despair in the heart, through the mind, bowing unto psychosis. Though illusionists’ snare I abhor, their enchantments, arcane, I implore to allow me true dreams one last time: Of the stars, of the ocean, and the sands. All the wondrous, mystical places I’ve seen in these lands. Bloodless hands, and peace of mind.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
