No such waste and mockery of life is more prevalent than in the hands of mankind. Every inch of the heavens bled hope. Anemic by the faith they had in us to breathe reason. Inhale. Treason sings. Every inch of the heavens wept. Sanguine, tasteful, savoring. Sanguine tasteful, clotting holes. Our seed. Our world. Hope is now just a ruby scab. Those wounds have long been tended. Mended by the winds of hatred.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.