Hear, a lost sound. Here, in the world. Tell me, what do you hear.
Me, whatÂ can I say;Â I,Â blood of stigmata. A victim and a “White lighter.”
A world possessed by the black side of man’s heart.
Getting too deep. A broken horse. The abyssal reach, unreached. The world shall fall.
Our generation shall see. Sitting. Nothing matters. A dying rebel, unable to pray.
Within.Â A non-existing cosmic brilliancy. Oh, celestial. Why, me.
What will be the miracle on the first page. For I, am only a horse.
My name, in chain.
“Chain,” was the last word. Nothing else to cling. I was wishing, for the voice of.