Through The Eyes Of The Dead. Bloodlust. With Eyes Ever Turned Inward. Zeneszám

An image of me beneath my grave what's gone wrong this time just a step away from the dead silence bleeding in my head I found the corpse of my conscience locked away I'm speaking in static and pain but the faces do not respond to the se things I saw as I was crawling through the broken glass of my thoughts I realized that I hate most everything I stand beneath my grave