What other could there be. For me. I see. It's something of a mystery. That I should see what must become of me. But here we are. What more could I be. How is this supposed to be. With things that could make a ghost lose his host. My mind crumblessed because I have no faith. But in such dark times the light us clear as day. Make way for the triumphant return of our power. What thoughts become I have no worry. My insides shutter at the strangers becoming. Eat the burdens for our aouls. What wretched beast become our dull. I have this hear but what shall it mean. Voidness is nothing more then justear words. Feel it all and it's a wrecked bore. Love everyone but how shall we know what to do. Our hyprocrist become religious life. Let the soul become. Or. .. eat up the no thing .
