Lathe of Heaven - Usnea

Drugs stop the dreams

Machine-fed transgressions

Forced sleep digression

Shift the state of it all

Unconsciously just a sink of horror and depravity;

Even if we have the best of intentions

All in vain we sink with cruel gravity…

Nothing endures, nothing is certain, nothing is the portal, existence is nothing

It is said that the end justifies the means

But what if there is no end?

All of the fools believing, just a grand solipsism

The creases of reality collapse existence is void

Demon hosts;

ravage us

Portals into futility;

forever opened

Defile creation, imminent decay

Decay, decay, decay, decay, decay, decay…