Dec 2020
In the cemetery trenches of eye pits, prodigal dreams line up; mourning each other every day! Dripping crater tears, like clotted blood droplets, are still wasting halfway between the grids of wrinkles and they don't know where and where they're going ?!
The undeserved Present: We are enslaved to our heads as ozone hole brains in the form of guard-protectors. The curse of reality is forever on our hands: the prisoner-handcuff! Our senses go out to a solidified light as a whistling baggage! Staring looting eyes cherish empty nights Cosmos canvases v
If we could still switch back to the roots of the Present so we can start all over with new cards! With a hangover depicted the next day, Dawn also seems like a lunar eclipse! Promised dreams fall into each other's throats if they can't come true! A sharp knife stands in the hands of an executioner, and his possessions are mine, which can be expropriated!
They exile themselves and exterminate the Debris World! Even in the eyes that want to watch awake, the flowering shattered can hardly be budded! Scooter scalpels with crooked edges to catch suicidal intent; and this is how adrenaline junkies flirt every day for new, more adventurous experiences! Everything is digested in the Spirit
soak yourself in Nirvana-white emptiness! Its nourished worms, found at home on earth, have been waiting patiently for times
play the loot as someone else pulls the government aside, or from the loneliness of floors of Icarus trying to invisible wings fall to the ground alive! Most of all the war is that the words of a sinful Man are hardly listened to by the Being.
The undeserved Present: We are enslaved to our heads as ozone hole brains in the form of guard-protectors. The curse of reality is forever on our hands: the prisoner-handcuff! Our senses go out to a solidified light as a whistling baggage! Staring looting eyes cherish empty nights Cosmos canvases v
If we could still switch back to the roots of the Present so we can start all over with new cards! With a hangover depicted the next day, Dawn also seems like a lunar eclipse! Promised dreams fall into each other's throats if they can't come true! A sharp knife stands in the hands of an executioner, and his possessions are mine, which can be expropriated!
They exile themselves and exterminate the Debris World! Even in the eyes that want to watch awake, the flowering shattered can hardly be budded! Scooter scalpels with crooked edges to catch suicidal intent; and this is how adrenaline junkies flirt every day for new, more adventurous experiences! Everything is digested in the Spirit
soak yourself in Nirvana-white emptiness! Its nourished worms, found at home on earth, have been waiting patiently for times
play the loot as someone else pulls the government aside, or from the loneliness of floors of Icarus trying to invisible wings fall to the ground alive! Most of all the war is that the words of a sinful Man are hardly listened to by the Being.
