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º HoSTiLe º
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Playing Dead
White textures has been painted in black
covered faces laid in the ground
feeding, fullfilling, completing an unatural rol
of a chained mind always thinking in lies
that unconsciously is bathing the existence with crime
and at the same time whisperings of regrets that cannot fly
Imitate a frozen corpse moved by the river flow
unhear cries of wounded souls reborn infected again
to continue building up the architecture of decadence
of this our malevolent master piece called "earth"
A giant grave wich sleeping zombies walk
making circles of blood, jailing another corpse
hauling the cord taked from their lord
offering sacrifice within the temple of fear
while the antithesis complete the filthy job
How many Ages will come to show what is not?
bringing another mirror to reflect how lost is this path
extinguishing the lil flame and submerging us into darkness
pain can´t be avoided but It should represent not only a fall
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