Cursed be the Blessed

Awake into a dark horizon where our childrens' fingers drip in the blood of their creators.

We've been consumed by our technology. We now bring the life of death upon ourselves. Crucified into a genetically altered way of life, our species will not survive.
We've kissed the cold palm of death for the satisfaction of our own.
The scent of the end fills our senses, for now the taste of the apocalypse rests upon our lips.
Spawned into a generation of disease to rot within the nonexistent enjoyment of life.

Now i will watch you burn within this revolution. We've licked the forked tongues of the demons we created.

I scream in silence for salvation and bleed for hope of a brighter tomorrow, but the sun no longer exists where man's technology is king. I slit the wrist of this synthetic way of life and I pull the veil down over my eyes. (I will savior the warm blood as it spills upon my hands.)