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Ancst
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Seasons of Separation
this life has been torn apart at the night your idea was born. I won't take part in this ridiculous farce. don't ask for sorrow now. don't ask for hope the hour of contempt in the midst of what you call a depression the world is on its knees when ambition left, coldness was its final gift. and we're watching ourselves choking within this faint conclusion craving for infinite pleasure i'm embracing the virus in this sea of shattered images if this is your idea of revolution better count me out you live on with your perfectly designed lives greed is rising. i keep on falling.
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