| Death Of Seasons (Correct) |
| Of late it's harder just to go outside, to leave this deadspace with hatred so alive. Writhing with sickness, thrown into banality, I decay. Killed by the weakness, but forced to return. Turn it off. I watch the stars as they fall from the sky. I held a fallen star and it wept for me, dying. I feel the fallen stars encircle me now, as they cry. Out there so quickly grows malignant tribes. Posthuman extinction excels unrecognized. Feeling surrounded, so bored with mortality, I decay. All of this hatred is scuking real. Turn it on. I watch the stars as they fall from the sky. I held a fallen star and it wept for me, dying. I feel the fallen stars encircle me now, as they cry. It won't be allright despite what they say. Just watch the stars tonight as they, as they disappear, disintegrate. And I disintegrate 'cause this hate is scuking real. And I hope to shade the world as stars go out and I disintegrate. |