I:
Could this emptiness be destined, from a power higher than the I.
Could this life be christened for a purpose divine, or damned.
There never seems to be...a pale moment to abide in ritual
Ghastly figures gather round, quarrel at the sound of my unholy grief
To speak the name of a devil, once summoned on the eve of my suicide
One breath more, and the lungs would contract, leaving this body an open vessel.
Divinity placed this bounty on my head, and damned by nature we all shall be dead.

Moments in time captured at the summoning shrine
Ancient spirits invoke these thoughts, preliminary morbidity to chasten the form
A harvest of the dead has adorned my home, and not even our fathers will answer my groan
This moment has left me unprepared, for the horrors placed in the face of regret.
That night, I awoke by the bloodstone gate, only to be captured by its gaze.
Spirits enveloping the cold night, as their talons graze my face.
Trapped in limbo of life and death, this is not my reckoning, for I must have a purpose


everything, meaningless. Everything decayed.
Swayed to live for the spoils of another, when death seems the only plausible option.
everything, meaningless. Everything decayed.

II:
Continually, trapped by thoughts of demonic realms. Toiling for souls that can never be found
I grasp the hand of a power, pleading for an end to be brought to this life.


Meaningless, meaningless, for it all decays
Meaningless, meaningless, we all have become
Meaningless, meaningless, to the end of the sun
Claimed by devils, dancing slowly in the night, it seems like validity is just in site.
Accepting too often the fact that there is a choice, to live for something, or die for absolutely nothing.


To allow these spirits to claim our lives, collecting bounty, and gambling souls
I long to be free, from abnormality, free from these wretched chains that bind me.
But I find my efforts meaningless once more, as everything turns black, and I come to another closed door

For nothing new comes under the sun, but that sun hasn't shown it's face in many moons
To create something new, being claimed by these spirits, please make me bleed for something more.
Make my lifes worth a new.
Demolish my pride, for that too is meaningless.
Abolish my hate, for that too, is meaningless.
And to a new sun we strive, to find meaning in time,
Could there be somebody, something left, to claim my soul for a purpose?


Or is purpose left with naught.
this life flourishes nothing but draught
My hands, meaningless, and nothing shall come.
to bleed, desire, i have come undone.


meaningless, meaningless everything has become.
meaningless, meaningless is everything under the sun.
meaningless, meaningless my desire to follow
meaningless, meaningless emotions left unbound
meaningless, meaningless every fucking sound.