The demonic doubts demand demolition as
Corruption cries to conscious construction
Like a magician with tricks up his sleeves
The Art of Illusion, to trick and deceive

When it comes to masks the masquerade wont last
The cracks of time pushing future, past
And presently resembling the arch-nemesis assembly
The crafting of crows to call back serenity

With harshened voices, hoarse from hearing
With blacked out eyes and sores still bleeding
The information stream no longer receiving
Dull and numb they succumb unfeeling

Death, destruction and ****** demise
Shuffling heads down and lowered eyes
To touch the spawn is to provoke what lies
Further than six feet under buried heights

To fall so soon is to embrace your doom
We all have clocks that cluck their tunes
A cuckoo clock that counts down too
Moments from eternal midnight you bloom

A lunar flower, lunaticus spores
You feel the rush from opened pores
The fear irrational yet perpetuates your heartbeat
The hands line up and the springs they squeak

Laying down and without a sound
The judgement of time, a crown renouned
A wooden box to return to Earth
What Earth condemned to live and learn