I can see the future, acid rain and mushroom clouds, ferrell creatures and melting skin
homes of rubble and ashes with barbecues of human flesh; and we are rotting from within

I can see the future, blocking out the sun belonging to the flies, and l welcome the sense of freedom, not a fetish or some vice
but from death comes rebirth; a necessity for life

Now i live in the past where the present is extinct, it's not dark but lonely, there a delusion sets me free: In the archives of my mind, in the basement locked in chains within a box that needs a key... There's a note that reads --- "i luv ya, kid" --- left by future me