i hear a siren. could be a fire. clocks stop ticking and start dishing out provisions. we're all sitting wishing for a simple execution but our days are looking grim. can't say i didn't see it coming, can't say i didn't help it happen. i'm an atom in a vacant apparition and i only exist to take the blame for any damage.
enough pressure makes you fall into the chorus of those adverse in nature.
my peers are staring into the sun, they wear a number not for nothing but for incomplete sums. negatives exist of every picture and the fixtures of our time run parallel with the dirt. who's important on the very last day, the ones who get to see it or the people buried in graves? engraved in all the matter is the answers we forsake and it's a show of guilty hands. its a promise i won't break.