The Blood on Our Hands - Thränenkind

I am a wanderer

Blind amidst the twisted trails of night

In search for light you are doomed to die in darkness

Golden are only the reflections of the sinking sun

In the windows of their postmodern concrete caskets

Gigantic monsters cough blackest death

Self created downfall

A cynical cycle

Utilitarian sickness within us all

The pillars of our society

Bow down to the new gods

Wires wrapped around your necks

Send your prayer to the heavens

Wait for their response and despair

Mental regression

Social suicide

Toxic depression

Global ecocide

We breath with cancer in our lungs

We’ll die with plastic in our mouths

In our mouths