I've a taste for catastrophe as a means to start anew
To wipe this bleak horizon clean of its painful crimson hue
God is dead and so are we, floating mindlessly in blood
That's beginning to boil and bubble, dissolving the last of love
Our beautifully constructed sandcastles melt majestically into mud
That suffocates and pulls us downward with saturated, lifeless lungs
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment