To me, it appears in such society…
Death has made good on a kingdom.
For us to stand up and to slave for this now
Would be the very bane of our freedom..
Could we stand here and say
In this time.. in this day…
That we really feel the wind on our faces?
Have we really seen these places…?
Or are we eluded the truest of joys
By habits, and claims more pretentious?
The truest of deaths
Is the death of the spirit
And while you may claim absolution…
Your life like the masses is covered and shrouded
drawing nigh is your disillusion
