The royal crown is broken amidst midnight bloom
Within the language of stars
They deny our light to embrace their gloom
Thirsting throats now throttle
As they sip the spurious as fact
Toasting their own turmoil
While turning contra towards the pact

The chambers of the underground ripple
With the echoes of the weak, herded like cattle
By the scenes in which they blindly seek
These grainial oceans, they glitter not of gold
For these arid flats
Entomb fragmented bones and horrors of old

Fallacies unwinding the ambitions of forgotten dreams
Association's burden culturally cracking at the seams
These illusions flourish like dead flowers in the wind
Let it be the pride of devils
That we may find ourselves in