A black mass is gathering gravity
in my fathoms.
The vestiges of me are pulled
inexorably in,
inexorably in.
Hope and love are phantoms.
Hope and love are phantoms.
Hope and love are phantoms.
One hand crushes the other.
These limbs are children,
my neurons their mother.
Misty eyes belie the lie
that lies inside what's died,
what's died.
Hope and love are phantoms.
Hope and love are phantoms.
Hope and love are phantoms.
Varlet, you're scarlet. Dead.
Let set the scarred head.
Varlet, you're scarlet. Dead.
Let set the scarred head.
