As if this world was brought forth only to be disposed of.
Surfacing through a bastion of exacerbated resentment
Leading us astray below the pedestals of misery
And above the apex of elation
In perpetuum turmoil subjugated by deceit.
It's the mutilated cry that has been buried in the Abyss.
The last word of this violent dispute only to be
Scattered and abandoned in the havoc of time.
Revelation resides in the simplicity of the unknown.
The open gates which no man can ever shut.
And the only choice to make is that of future regrets
Whilst silence keeps bearing all our crosses.
So be thankful, for illusion has veiled your madness
From the infandous works of eternal unjustness.
All those verdicts so highly venerated have served
As instruments for the necropsy of our desire.
Justifying the ghastly statues of fraud
Becomes an ovation to this rotten harlotry.
Chaining endlessly the sinister malady which
Has been carried by the will of existence.
The undeniable tragedy of man
Is not worth more than a demented laughter.
