Morbid sounds coming from the casket.
Dried roses and flowers of losses.
Ashes and blood flow through my veins;
The past is the present: lost and decayed.
Cities burn to a crisp.
Apple trees, once tall, wither into the abyss.
Scarlett sunsets turned to black—chaos ensues
There’s no going back.
Destruction is chaos, and the chaos is me.
I am the nightmare of the earth and the trees.
Sire...
