Nameless
Weaving the fabric of a sunken universe
Gliding the winds of a bottomless curse
Little spider, hanging in my head
Free of the wings that really are chains
Forging a mirror that never shatters
A mirror that does not exist
Little spider, aching in my head
Blind and deaf, drowned in ecstacy
Crawling in the pain of bliss
Seeking the sweets of sickness
Little spider, dying in my head
Torn from itself, immune to embrace
"At least, be humane", so that's what they said
Hold on to your pain, for it is your cocaine
Little spider, growing in my head
Here is the world, cradle of the dead
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