Caught in a spotlight from a star
Long time ago extinguished
Isn’t it good to see so far
A mirrored image finished
This view relates to time I guess
If one looks from the star side
A planet Earth must be a mess
That long ago has died
Time works like turning of the key
It opens lots of spaces
I borrowed little time for me
To let me see through faces
One day a Faustian bargain
We’re forced to make, before we go
Each ounce of dust looks quite the same
Is this important thing to know?
Came back for no good reason, other than making a splash
Recoiling in horror, when my demons emit a flash
Anointed by unholy chrism, absolves me from the trash
Can oil ever be sacred, when not making ready cash
So would heaven be enough, if eternal less one day
It's said hell lasts forever, burning plasma if we stray
I belong in purgatory, in its orbit i'll stay
Even a rogue event horizon, couldn't drag me away
Innards will remain hidden, til grotesquely overblown
A hungry mouth sets up residence, seeking a new home
Put two and two together, you see the vision i've sown
A metaphorical language, this tongue I call my own
In the end love conquers all, even love tainted by hate
I loath its taste in my mouth, pity I’m hooked on the bait
We took our chance with trance,
nurturing dark desires,
holding dear mirrored fear,
overcome by despair,
with nothing left to cheer.
We took our chance with trance,
descending from heaven,
conjuring an ego,
living in a dream world,
we’re now loathe to let go.
We took our chance with trance,
negating pulse of love
for momentary gain
and lost in the shadows,
we’re bound to our thought chain.
We took our chance with trance
but now seek soul’s freedom,
to reclaim inner light,
so to this end we bend,
in time graced by clear sight.
A shiver down your spine as you see
A face of pure evil in me.
A stare from a man with no soul.
Look away, but you can't and you know.
Eyes of ice and fiery black holes.
I offer you the chance to fulfil your dreams
Just shake your hand with me.
Forever now you will pay.
For your deal with the devil this day.
“Old man! ‘Tis not so hard to die.”
-Lord Byron
I have grown sick with wanton desire
My lungs are filling slowly with ash
I need to feel the burn of the fire.
Upon the wreckage my shadow is cast.
To this misfortune I must lay claim.
A lecture on lethargy and disdain,
A symposium of sickness and shame.
I saturate the wound with salt and filth.
I scab over. I pick until I bleed again.
So this is how I ruin everything
And everyone around me. Burning at the ends
Down to a smoldering ruin of repute.
A vulgar remnant of hubris and swill
A sad sick example of treachery fulfilled.
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