The World is Flat
The smell of death
The smell of sub-death
The smell of death's deputy
I can smell all
From my death bed
Life seems but a nightmare
In which a black mare
Runs at a furious speed
Unbridled and uncontrolled
At an ever increasing velocity
Towards the end of the land
The world is flat
For human beings
@ 'Poetica de Insanire'
The smell of sub-death
The smell of death's deputy
I can smell all
From my death bed
Life seems but a nightmare
In which a black mare
Runs at a furious speed
Unbridled and uncontrolled
At an ever increasing velocity
Towards the end of the land
The world is flat
For human beings
@ 'Poetica de Insanire'