held up along this tattered pathnnof your life and my deathnnburn and bury the sense of neglectnnand recover this condemned ghostnnhis book is covered in solid blacknnto hide the feelings insidennthe silence is hidden in small printnnim trapped in this motionless roomnnshattered into one million piecesnnof memories and consequencesnnsmoke and fog keeps you blinded by ignorancennwhere, in this grim forrest of sinceritynnthey've come to bury me in hollow groundnngranted your lust and dignitynnremain dwelling in the shadows of conformitynnwishing upon something so real to come to mennthe darkest of eves and an aspect of realitynnuntil im in a graveyard.