My crys could fill the Earth of apocalyptics to anguish my idea of me of this world the heavens couldn't plead my anger was mine alone but theirs amongst my heartsilenced compulsefied my clouted genius quatams isolation of man ache after sought monotony my breathe was empty of screams of stoked seclusion to prevail from the dom longing was vary to the quiet choas quisked was the plot ticks just as the bloads song die