Cold sorrow claims all hope. Live on, for reasons unknown. Falling. Fallen. While I'm bleeding unappealing strands of purulence, I am feeding off a cyst on this dry cunt. Now I dance with the hounds, vile eyes stare at the craven. Grey livor mortis is smiling bright across my lying heart. Revelations of this live persist and form a bold river, waging a war on the sanity that's left. I am kneeling on a graveyard full of cravings. Let me stay for a while, in a state of arrival. For a second there I longed for many things. On a second thought, I pray: release me. Liberate your mind, eliminate your goals. When the war is over, you may find yourself. Praise the god of thorns, lay down all your hope. Know it is the time to be alive in hell. Push me down, oh rabid one, I plead to be undone. I lust for all that makes me numb, I frown at every dawn, all life long. Cold sorrow claims life. Let go now. I am not, I was and will always be shaped by the horror, the conception of what I cannot comprehend. We roam this world alone, engulfed in utter silence. In spite of all the noise, devoid of heart and soul. Abandoned, forgotten, estranged to ourselves. The concept of existence is lost forever — a cluster of chances, gone wrong.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
