What if tomorrow will never be yesterday,
because yesterday is tomorrow's today,
and the future is nothing but ashes
but only the ashes is all that remain?
Exhibition of deviant sculptures in chains
or perhaps they are sculptures of pain -
the last of the humankind's slashes
is leaving its marks on the slaves.
Will someone be able to look at the scars,
how disembodied and cripled we are,
when they lead us to that road of perdition
and forced us to divide us apart.
What takes for man to eat his own heart
just to atone of his sins and to grant
absolution for soul- a short inquisition,
is that question worth for a start?
The dead man walking on his burial site
his shape is now black than the night.
The last soul on earth slowly fading away-
crippled and broken reflection of light.
Soon he'll be reaped by the scythe
when Death will aproach out of sight,
bringing it's promise - forgotten despair
will end up that cursed and condemned fight.
...and what if i saw this long time ago,
in the mirror of fate i've stared for so long,