existence running deeper deeper than the furrows in the rock of gray mountains cold trapped in waves of roman water thick from layers of salt
burning through my soul and armour to quench the growth of my lies they feed the fire inside me inside my innocent desire to cut my fingers off and bleed
False flags are the bearers of truth. Darkness is the bearer of light
false prophets are the key to salvation
Cutting myself through the rivers of bitterness while praying for more My false god of hate I pray to you for pain may you never release me for liberty is a cellar without wine