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This is unflinching reality. The face of the clock is leering back at me.
The dead are we, walking hand in hand.
The cold and listless dirge of life's every demand.
Twenty years, not even forty winks.
Eyes are so red that I can hardly blink.
and I can't stop thinking, that what I am feeling isn't right.
It isn't right.
Horus turns, it turns. Horus turns.
It turns on me.
It's unrelenting fucking agony.
It turns of me.
It turns on.
This is unflinching reality. The face of the clock is leering back at me.
The dead are we, walking hand in hand.
The cold and listless dirge of life's every demand.
Twenty years, not even forty winks.
Eyes are so red that I can hardly blink.
and I can't stop thinking, that what I am feeling isn't right.
