• And turn to wreck.
    That's for held here below
    deep in the burdened penetralia,
    burdened of dross



    we forget those who
    in sorrow
    devulge our own flavour.
    Hate. Regrow.
    Envy feed you, you benighted,
    You burned nescience.
    Impartiality is my own,
    My only defense.


    Dream of thought, cry of tears.
    Orbitual disvalue will earn you none.
    In your woes your life does comes sick.
    Water goes as water flows as life remains phasic.
    The earth is round, so where does water go?
    Where do your thoughts wonder?



    They turn to wreck,
    guilt bedeck,
    upon my neck.
    Do they turn to wreck.