كلمات The Ambition Of Death

The cold morning light Evasive and sterile Burned on our skin Our bodies perpetually futile The seed of the day Clubbed into our heads Bloodied and in retort We find our faces split in two Our organs on show Tongues flapping Muscles contracting with Precisely nothing to say So we mourn the remains of our experience A fade to white Passionate exit We rid ourselves of pretence Rip out our spinal cords And pray for dignity But it never comes And we never meet again And it works