Seasons of Separation
this life has been torn apart at the night your idea was born.
I won't take part in this ridiculous farce.
don't ask for sorrow now.
don't ask for hope
the hour of contempt
in the midst of what you call a depression
the world is on its knees
when ambition left, coldness was its final gift.
and we're watching ourselves choking within this faint conclusion
craving for infinite pleasure
i'm embracing the virus in this sea of shattered images
if this is your idea of revolution better count me out
you live on with your perfectly designed lives
greed is rising.
i keep on falling.