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No sign of life, no tears to cry.
Silence remains, everything's the same.
Uncertainty, anxiety.
These affections of incredulity.

Prepare to the worst.

Has the downward spiral called life come to an end at some given moment?
The blade tears through the innocence, leaving the shell all sore and cold.

Visions force-fed, a sudden fear of death.
Worries turned to dreads, where these clues will head?
As time goes by, just all in vain.
Hoping to regain the missing one's remains.

Prepare for the worst.
Cry, wait for the worst.

Downward spiral called life came to an end at some given moment.
The blade tore through the innocence, leaving the shell all sore and cold.

No sign of conflict.
What could have triggered it.
No sign of conflict.
Such an outrageous way to play

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