Never crawling from the wreckage
Their tragedy is transformed into fear
Living in the scattered memories
Whether we remember, or not
Sleep off the drunk
Hold onto the rush, it never lasts
The world will end in mere seconds
We fall beneath the veil of tears
Does the pharmacist make deliveries
Are we on, or is it finally off
Or is it better these hopes be dashed?
Let me dream of you when I have nothing
Let me find Elysium, let the ravens sing
Come now, come
Oh oblivion
I am finished
There is nothing left
No rotten flesh
Nothing
For the cannibals to feast upon
“I have no doubt that it is a part of the destiny of the human race, in its gradual improvement, to leave off eating animals, as surely as savage tribes have left off eating each other when they came in contact with the more civilized.” Henry David Thoreau
