Here is were the bodies rot
Under the gravel, under the lot’s
As the sun burns the flesh around
None of those griefs make a sound
So much is the way things can be
Futile and barren, under a willow tree
And the devil sits with tobaco in pipe
And he will leave his mark, at first light

Oil runs in the veins
Coats the teeth black, makes the lungs ashes
It filters the morals with an axe, it makes the ground barren
It becomes an ocean filled with blood, and the shores scattered with bones
A catalyst for the grip, that wraps around the throat and chokes
In the desperate hours, it becomes like a drug
A ****** unlike any kind, it’s a most vicious bite

We lost ourselves a long time ago

What stands isn’t bone and flesh, no pulse, no feeling

Something very jaded, apathetic, bitter

Maybe it was always that way

And those hurricane songs washed the paint away

To reveal the cracks that were always present

And when another body lies dead in the locust’s pit

Will walk over it, like it never was anything

But a body

I’ve tried looking to the horizon

But it’s blocked by a smokestack

So I’ll stand here and rust

And just sleep, until I become nothing

The king of sorrow

I sit on a bench made of bird wings

WIth a crown made of ***** leaves

I call out to a land, that cares not for me

Maybe there is something, wrong with my rule

Why there is so much loneliness, I don’t know

I’ll sit on this bench, and shed tears all the day

King sorrow, I’ll die and lay

Over head there is bombers, they shake the houses with their roar
There is an end coming soon, one of beautiful madness
The sun is blocked out, and the world becomes dark
And the candlelight, whispers a song, for the coming hellfire

I stand in a bathtub of oil
I light a match, in slow action
And set it on fire
I go to sit down
And bathe in the flames
To cleanse myself
Of my pasts and regrets
For maybe if I survive
The skin of my former selves
Will have burned off
And I will be something new