I've had enough of you. Enough nothing. I guess at...

The river Styx swells with the blood of broken...
Lapping at the corpses fresh from the Danse...

Its in my head and its burning
telling me...

God, the fevered children,
narcoleptic kleptomanics...

Polished chains, dawn-breaking and faith forsaking
Sentiment pales to diversity and balance flees us...

You are a key. Life is a series of doorways down...
If god is what is powerful and righteous, it is...

A lullaby of criminal authority hidden in ripples...
so fierce, protective, and waning by the light of...

What goes on up there?
Do all the voices blare...