Syndrome

Your life is a sepulcher of imagined eternities
And there are graven views beyond human vision
The final descend through slits in reality
Where pitiless eyes await with their haunting gaze

You have embraced me in a sullen trance
To embark on your quest for nothingness
I am the looming gleam of an obscure reality
The sweet corruption of your very being

Hidden by the great lie that cradles human fears
I am the answer to the final question

Vultures of imminent doom
You are my voice in the discord of winds
May you carve your own torrid path
and welcome the rain of glowing crosses...