Lathe of Heaven
Usnea
Drugs stop the dreams
Machine-fed transgressions
Forced sleep digression
Shift the state of it all
Unconsciously
Just a sink of horror and depravity
Even if we have the best of intentions
All in vain we sink with cruel gravity
Nothing endures
Nothing is certain
Nothing is the portal
Existence is nothing
It is said that the end justifies the means
But what if there is no end?
All of the fools believing, just a grand solipsism
The creases of reality collapse, existence is void
Demon hosts ravage us
Portals into futility
Forever opened, defile creation
Imminent decay, decay (Decay)
Decay, decay (Decay)
Decay, decay (Decay)
Decay, decay (Decay)
Decay, decay (Decay)
Decay