KunaiGuy

Ruthless apathy: The music still plays Beyond your days As if mocking The fact that everything Will become nothing Whether peasant or king.

a Someone, please punish me 6 b To prove there is justice. 6 a End my spree, 3 b Else I continue this malice, 8 c So make me pay. 4 b Is it cowardice? 5 c What a heyday 4 d To spit in your face. 5 c Anyway, 3 d You're a disgrace. 4 e Turn the wheel. 3 d None can outrace, 4 e Regardless of how they feel. 7 f One day this clock will stop. 6 e That's the deal. 3

To those whose minds have been stolen by foreign dogmas How can you expect this one to be concerned with something as fickle as human law When that which eludes is nothing more than the sinister awe Of unending destruction And recreation? Divide into order To no avail. Against and into The amalgamation, Spiral. Does beauty exist independently from those who can feel it? Or is it merely internal? That which is felt to be beautiful surely exists, But is that necessarily its identity? Homogenous chaos Becomes harmony. Within the numbers of infinity That permeate all, One of many simple formulas Is cursed with sentience. An object cannot fit In