Written by: Stephen Tate

Hells stone fury cannot find me here
The raging of the dawning light cannot be the one within us
I am perpetually hidden within this wound of words
And you…
Black rusted clean of fine rubbish
And I know you
A thousand deaths that took my life
And you still live
Blackened are the steps,
leading forward, 
ever forward
A whirlpool of thought
And forward to oblivion
Searing flame burned them long ago,
for the begotten fools of Trust and Reason 
saw everything
And know nothing
Falling hands lift to smash the mirror
As the finished sound dies hollow
For me, the quenching rain will not come
Eternity tomorrow
Hell, standing on the face of the sun
By thieving Heaven
Tomorrow will not come