the wolves have ripped this herd apartonly to findmore wolves beneathbeneath the shores of bloodred riversand drought to ashes seas

contempting my looka spore of betrayal to cast upon youetesians bliss easy to forgetas the simoon scorches our condescension

you cleaned my woundonly for maggots to devourbones, flesh and neuronsnumb consciencetwo years of storm

the steps are cutby the hands of those so cravenonly to set offthe anger of both sides

and now i must bury insidethe findings of these lightsto hide and then to mellow two years of storm so nice