The place where the wretched lurk
Buried in dens they indwell
Watchfully eye each move we make.
Lurching through the darknened streets
Lined with treacherous two-faced rats
Ruining tomorow what we create today.
This city is a tomb of ghosts
Crippled and drained of minds
Leaving nothing but shadows of doubts.
Such inheritance is innate
Sins are embedded in thoughts
Flaring horizons are to be passed through
A withered place with empty souls
Neighboring estate vile as morgue
Content too far from being dead
Think of what you've done and you're all set.
- To Name The Things Right
- Feeding on your Fear
- Rain of Thoughts
- Ink Smears
- Describing the Emptiness
- The Ever Searching Seagul..
- Tomorrow’s Fires
- The Silhouette In The Dar..