Bled White

If only the world had just one neck
 If only the sun would swell and turn black
 If only the skies would come crashing down
 Non time is advent Et Nihil Est

 Scrawled on a wall are words writ in vain
 Their meaning is lost, discarded inane
 Life loveth life is the best man can offer
 There'll be nothing to love when lain on death's altar
 Non Time is advent Et Nihil Est

 Lashed by a hand the skin is bled white
 Reasons for living have been offered and failed
 Death's bed were making as we face the night
 Darkness is falling the world is impaled

 All visions all dreams all systems and structures
 progression toward and end is a progression of death
 We are death's dowry, we are death's estate
 All life is but vermin that feeds on decay