In The Sadness Of Your Arms
Voices Calling Telling Ripened By Truth Listen To Them Cradle The Consequence Things Get Worse Not Better Barely Breathing Sightless Seeing Beneath The Eyelids Even In Dreams Memories Sinless Image Carving Its Remembrance Over Scar Tissue Left Freely To Drown In Ones Own Bloodless Corpse Controlled And Freshly Abused One Sharp Brutal Instant To Become Painfully Immortal Deprived Of Everything But The Cure.
