Nothing left inside.
No truth is found in all the lies.
Constant lies that blunt the senses.
Here I sit in disbelief;
Ashamed, lost in thought.
The words lost.
The mind unclear.
Empty space where thought did pass. . .
The fall is near.
The road is clear.
We shoot the picture of apocalypse.
Decline; decline; decline;
This is the end.
Hollow heads of men have come to be;
No soul inside;
Hollow husks of sensation filled with nothing.
Empty husks, no center, no heart, no brain. . .
This is the end. . .
This is the whimper.