Whatever you say now reverberates

Whatever you don't say speaks for itself

The gesture of the hands shielding the head

Has nonetheless remained the same

There's nothing more debauched than thinking

Nothing's sacred for those who think

It is all behind them now

Every beginning is only sequence

This is not a dirge; it's indignation

We ill-fated mad won't fade away

Eyes don't stop shedding tears

The body writhes, falling to the ground

Presence of death

Intoxicating mock despair in every mid-sentence

We're made of stone

We are homeless

With chains of mind

Life is punishment

Shameful dream

This will never end

Instinct can't err

It's a good thing we have stairs to run down

It's a good thing we have gates to open