It is a curse
We must endure

There is a force behind everything
To be described as anything but nothing
A stillness, an oblivion too perfect to be described
How things were before life scraled its pitiful name
On the face of this void

It does not fill their eyes or warm their hearts
And they chose their god, and it still fells apart

A garish daylight revealing only squalor and alienage
Sprеading stone in the hearts of hypocritеs

The exhaustion palpable
The fear overwhelming
To suffer with duty
In reference of this beauty

Memories, you loathsome flock of rats
Memories, the souls the Devil came to collect
Trepidation, the taste of burning skin
The delusion of mortality