Whatever you say now reverberates
Whatever you don't say speaks for itself

The gesture of the hands shielding the head
Has nonetheless remained the same

There's nothing more debauched than thinking
Nothing's sacred for those who think
It is all behind them now
Every beginning is only sequence
This is not a dirge; it's indignation

We ill-fated mad won't fade away
Eyes don't stop shedding tears
The body writhes, falling to the ground
Presence of death
Intoxicating mock despair in every mid-sentence
We're made of stone
We are homeless
With chains of mind

Life is punishment
Shameful dream
This will never end
Instinct can't err
It's a good thing we have stairs to run down
It's a good thing we have gates to open