The scent of blood; shrill The sound of battalions; Noxious. I see time, Come at me like a Bloodthirsty warrior, a hound, A mad cannibal. Surely my future Lies in the stars. So why do They dig out my grave?
What is it Good For?
When the sun bids goodbye And the world bears down with fatigue Reality knocks. White masks faces Red cries rivers. The heavens salute the undead, The price paid by the childless and orphaned.