Drunkards Travel

See dark mist enclosed in passion, wicked smiles of the rotten crowd, feel your torn soul trapped in, wild patterns. The key is lost in the mud, the mud of the mythic sea, boiling led in my veins, penetrate the heavenly limits, i dont want my skin, blood and bones, think of walls within us, and sledgehammer in ur hands. Crystal breath in a body with a soul, black thorns in my veins, infinity of walking dawns. Our prophet wasnt sure, so he decided to be loved. Warmth and hunger, beneath the trea of life, thick air, the rocks and blood. Theres a wall on the edge of the horizont, and a limitless crack in the middle of it. Eruption of destruction, destruction of the known, feel what u dont know, like a toxic river through comfortable warmth. Now we are part of the unknown, the fuel for abuse.