In summer I long for the cold
Awash in the ocean I dream of the desert
And walking alone in a wasteland of sand
I would kill for a drink
I am asleep to my life in dream
And have no idea between shit or gold
In utero I wait for the signal to abort
The worst nightmare is a construct of man
Where the reward goes to those who avoid the chance
To think
Opposites might attract
But the strong are tempted always to attack
I never resist the urge to run
My entry into oblivion
Is begun
