Shrines are a stillborn faith For insecurity to drown into. And along this hollow path towards them, The hollow ones seek on. And all it can find it consumes. Somewhere along its lonesome Journey towards the end, It thinks and tries to grasp for a meaning. But in the end, that what he consumed, Consumes him too. And to the big hollow he returns. Shifting through concrete In passive sway Guideless compulsion To de-celebrate The pulse of god By Morgues engaged The stubborn sense Of dreams and faith Wide open caskets In the white of day This Day of laughter This Day of fate Mordred silhouettes Hallelujah Hallucinate ...Nocturnalized In Foreverness engraved "He who lives in the desert and Finds himself alone in strength by Absence of what's above or below him, He shall be risen to immaculate heights, And he shall dance with devil's At the table of undying Truth and be taught; nothing! For nothing fills the will with existence, And existence knows that knowledge shall perish. For as it once came, it forever shall leave us, Again and again and again..." Shrines of apathy Magnetic graves Inactive but thorough Triumph of age But ageless as the stars, Will there bloom a lucid state? Will the soulless be freed From hunger, before we obliterate? Force-feed me with dormancy I need a ghost of death in me Don't wake me up I need to leave The white of day it shines through me No reflection, no compassion No tomorrow's satisfaction Fill my shrine of apathy And lay my bones to rest in thee "...For nothing fills the will with existence, And existence knows that knowledge shall perish. For as it once came, it forever shall leave us, Again and again and again..."