Icy blades fly in the darkness of silence. Launched by the gnashing of colliding events. Galactic pillars and archs are made of rioting souls that crowd at the edge of cosmos. Time, s***e, destiny. With closed eyes I admire the blaze that comes over.
Despite being imprisoned in viscid meat, I hit the nerves of antimatter. Several steps up the ladder of deceit. What are we made of? The approximation to the absolute is a root of malignancy and sinks deep into human flesh. Until time breathes. It may be because of us. It is part of us. Down, in the eternal abyss of imperfection it judges us. Preach for your sidereal self esteem. I lay back this time, go, drowning through wonders of illusions. Consumed souls screaming into the void. Memory would preserve the meaning. But it's lost through the wind and the earth. Are you a slave to the flesh?
Despite being imprisoned in viscid meat, I hit the nerves of antimatter. Several steps up the ladder of deceit. What are we made of? The approximation to the absolute is a root of malignancy and sinks deep into human flesh. Until time breathes. It may be because of us. It is part of us. Down, in the eternal abyss of imperfection it judges us. Preach for your sidereal self esteem. I lay back this time, go, drowning through wonders of illusions. Consumed souls screaming into the void. Memory would preserve the meaning. But it's lost through the wind and the earth. Are you a slave to the flesh?