Welcome to the trauma spectacle

we reel through ice cold steel

A heartache velocity

silver horns blown for traitors

leave your homes to glimmer astray

disguise blessed on all your eyes

violence pries at my sides

yes we will, continue to misspell

the last things we need

are new colors to bleed

get sick with taste or blur

ride the veins to rhythmic slur

all searching with gasmasks

this land is shattered by artificail atmosphere

join us for slowing the rank

faces are useless anyway

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Our need for someone else is only measured by a sullen depravity

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