Not corpses, yet we still rot. Continuous consumption of dead hearts, pleasure within grasp of fools. Hunger insatiable. We don’t fear anything, because we’ve already died. Shards of heartbreak fixed with salt, pain is freedom. Elsewhere one is living a dream, but in reality it becomes a nightmare. Humans struggle with life, life struggles to die. Ever consuming and fire, plunge this forsaken world into a cursed paradise.