MUERTE!
As the sun speaks to me, it filters through mortality.
Trickling wastefully through deeply impressioned flesh, tastefully enriching smiles, achievements, wonder, experience.
Stress - the creative allowence, our will, our thrills, another delicate secret breached by tone, perched on majesty, monotone.
So the eyes follow every drop, baking the seeds, ripening our will - dispensing purefied fear. The smaller the engine, the smaller the mention... This is the rich man's fear.
Sick with sun, following rage to shade - an oasis of diet drinks and overboiled Orange County magazines.. Every last breath of processed cotton is fodder for Satan.
The laughs echo, the tears evaporate.
MUERTE!
As the sun speaks to me, it filters through mortality.
Trickling wastefully through deeply impressioned flesh, tastefully enriching smiles, achievements, wonder, experience.
Stress - the creative allowence, our will, our thrills, another delicate secret breached by tone, perched on majesty, monotone.
So the eyes follow every drop, baking the seeds, ripening our will - dispensing purefied fear. The smaller the engine, the smaller the mention... This is the rich man's fear.
Sick with sun, following rage to shade - an oasis of diet drinks and overboiled Orange County magazines.. Every last breath of processed cotton is fodder for Satan.
The laughs echo, the tears evaporate.
MUERTE!
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