Descending
Submersed in the cold grasp of inertia
Shrouded in these blackened wings
Where I will sleep
Listless
Callous of the wake
Fear is god on this spiteful earth
And to the earth I plummet
Tearing the chill winds
Freezing the veins of reason
I am but filth
A fabrication of faith
And a testament to its worth
I am the breath returning to god
To final and finally rest
Altered
I have shed the delusion of hope
And spread wings in animosity
In which there is truth
And I am welcomed
With open arms
Becoming one with the soil
Once more
