Planes Mistaken For Stars. Mercy. One Fucked Pony. Zeneszám

Here lies pestilence feeding on the flesh of our discontent.
Here stands arrogance in the face of our best intents.
We fell so hard to the fighting side, I fear that it quickened the fight in us to die.
We tried so hard to bring beauty to light, we left unkempt the bitterness we hide.
We all are set to fall.
Let us sing one last time, one last dance before one last goodnight