Life ends as leaves fall. Occam’s razor strikes again.
Can I dance if I have no soul?
If I go under will you find me cold?
And if I travel to distant lands, would you walk beside me and hold my hand?
Suffering from aberration.
Sores ignored panic restored.
Consuming the fruits of our labors.
We are the aberration.
Out Of A Center Which Is Neither Dead Nor Alive
- Waging War On The Forever..
- Narcotics And Dissecting ..
- Holy Flower Of The North ..
- Three Hours
- Bloodletting And Forgetti..
- Wisp Of Tow