Ulcus. Malice. Zeneszám

My hate is built on grief, a lust for revenge to ease the guilt. A condition
of helplessness where you're suffering is my only cure. I worship the
bitterness to increase the pain and prolong the mourning. Remorse means
nothing at all my hate has blinded me.

I am what is remembered, what I do is what remains.

Dark tunes break the silence, as my fear withers I grief my loss. The dawn
of solitude is the end of my happiness.

I am what is remembered, what I do is what remains. The memories will fade
away, they will be buried in time.

I can no longer see the boundaries that keep me sane. I am all instinct now,
flesh is flesh and hate is all. No hope only bitter feelings, it's all
unreal no comprehension. I am shattered the past is gone, only hate prolongs

I am what is remembered, my malice is what remains.