Time in argument will end Flames of preparation Fingers felt the whipping Hand that feeds the flame
Escalate the drought Itching to join the fray
Wishing darkness was sound shutting desires out Wishing darkness was sound but as moths to the flame... ...we go
You the ignorant take sides in these three dimensions Nullify importance confined within the page
Scan for raoture again look for an instant save
Mere moments pass and still it seems detached from insight, thought and word Ever since it lost its edge lost in the noise forever be in the blur of information the nail that never sticks
Venting a foul stench purging the fevered self behind a traitor's name
Face the consequence taken back in the eyes of fairness A nobody forever hidden and locked away