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Thoughts migrate nowhere, sullen birds of prey |
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Swallowed by jet black dreams of death in foul slumber |
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A world beyond affliction; |
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When the calling lulls us into our infinite beds |
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And the droning pulse of nihilism mocks us |
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From across lightless fissures of consciousness. |
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Writhing...Burning |
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Alive only to host the Stygian torment |
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Pitied we are |
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When deep sleep falls upon mankind. |
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Hopeless we fall |
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Into the fathomless depths of this virulent dream. |
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And from the haunted arms of Morpheus, |
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We arise to a different despair. |
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Note |
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: Same as Reverie in Tears. |
