Turn away from this sky aflame as it descends on our cities tonight.
It’s as if hell had climbed to the surface to greet us.
This digital laceration tears through me, can’t hide my eyes.
Never mind what was said, my fear has proven to reawaken, relapse.
Into my dystrophic cycle: Obsidian eyes black with death, ascending in sublime contortion.
As if by design: Assembling, collapsing, enslaving us all.
One for the war machine.
It raises me from my still feet, and demands I assume it’s atrocity.
Then I start to question my perception. Have I lost my mind?
Apocalyptic visions cut into my veins. Written in my bone, this pain is my own
It’s as if hell had climbed to the surface, announcing I don’t need my eyes.
I choose to burn away, ending my final relapse.

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN