The System of Dread
The black swan
Looking for the white of her eyes
He rolls the boulder
Who will be first
The bones are calling
Tongues of leather curled around stones
My place of domicile directly feeds the dead and unread
Whispers of a new age comingÂ
The gray void looming within us
Sadly we await the funerals that will not come
Zen and our apocalypse
Residency of horrors hidden in the woods
There must be some way out of here