I hear you. Doesn't make me less disgusted.

I always found pain rather unsettling
But do not forget I found death amusing
And came to find beaty in animals decay
As they squeal for salvation that never came
I put up a miserable face and feint a plain play
Hoping they wouldn't find I was holding up
Self-satisfaction and a tiny bit of pity
That I couldn't be the only one
to have held the blade
start a fire and burn the whole World

Never seen a point in ransom
No need for a cheap stone, pile them high
And go heavy on the dirt
If I come across as bashful
You might just have run out of luck
Time is precious but limited, true
But then again
You either get infected by-a-bye
Or grow corrupted from inwards

 To be terminated.

The call of the void soon came for me
Spent, like rotten fruit in that bowl
Potencialy harmless, granted
The irritating sensorious offense
Furthermore, and for shock effect
Shook, administrate the cure
Look as the changelings assume other colours
A farse, altogether, as per prophesy tames
Tained, to the core as only time can truly corrupt

Pacify this silly notion
No compromiss, we shall never surrender
Not just yet, at least, rather, it is too late
To maintain a stance of delay as the surface
Cracked under pressure, and we chose to float
And mediate the season as we wave our good-byes
And, ah, in a hurry as you should, be.

There remains little to disappoint
Once one came to accommodate expectations
Through and throughout spectacles, tinted lents
Are as foggy as that chilly night in december
When the water as a mirror to our own world
Pity I came to be stuck here still
Grounded by earthy boundaries
As my ninfe, and the departed ahead of me
whisper It to me in senseless turns
"è immacolato e quindi silenzioso".
The horror, a thin veil of dread
Can mask too mystery
For a man is incomplete without

Close to the ideal that came to be
Slide right through, crack widen and echo
Those voices that acomplish disinfection
An amputee needs no apt serum
Or a call for arms, those that he no longer has
Upwards then, the colour of the green monster
is my conception yellow under the Sun?

Beneath my doormat
Blocked by dirt and despair
A trace of a hole that needs digging
Unfinished issue to be serialized
By deeper abstract thought, an oversight
In front of me

The enchantment ran it's due course
the track lingers beyond the horizon
and I sure came pacing backwards
Inevitablely caged within the idea
Introduced to the phenomena of wonderlust
I originated from established demonstrative drama
Speech, a certain kind of truth bursting flat out
From my chest to the left, all that is left
Could be either rage or sin
In equal measures, excited to exist, ahha
I might care to await maturity
To equate infinity with artillery
But youth is chained to a binding search
For heartbreak, qualms of the soul and
Generaly speaking
Resolutions to come anew once old
Grey and at once grim
Owned to those carried within
That could not attend this day
In hopes that
Hope molds as wax
And mends my rocky boat
To a lively port