Phosphorescent Blight - The Moth Gatherer

Leading down to the phosphorescent blight

At the end, there is nothing

The heavens are paintings of ash

A gallery of failure projected on the skin

Detached this world long ago

A culling dawns in the horizon

Treading water among the filth

A determined path

Leading down to the phosphorescent blight

At the end, there is nothing

The smell of corrosion veils reality

Decline of psyche and society

Equilibrium has been breached

Rings will ripple through eternity

Tides of tomorrow, will bring what may

Propelled through space, unable to diverge

I can see the phosphorescent blight

At the end, there is nothing