God ...Oh my self how I want to break free
sealed up by brackish mortar healed by valid yet flagrant insensitivities
gloaming fronts assailed eyes turned for the morning into rot and clandestine of it
hallow holds on my halcyons hues of melonic powers hasten to the relevance of unending mishaps
in justice yet colliding with friends the glass covered hope shatters and I am named miscreant
what does day and night with procurement mean
for in reality the thoughts lead to desolation and all deliverance is burned to be named appropriate
and codex of the brand or code of arms of the clean
What little of efforts dissuade all these meanings can only truly be virtue depleting
the hold on virtuous rationality and logic I once knew
facing tomorrow sessions and seasons in tow