Advent of Bedlam
echoes of the unhinged
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Faith goes away, without knowing whether it's day or night
It disappears in the waters of mystery
I can't see anything but stains of light
I disguise my ideas so I won't contradict them
I act cautiously so I won't be alone
Heading to the disintegration of myself
A cursed echo is embedded in my soul
Slowly rotting, gazing upon a curious face
Until I find myself in oblivionâ¦
A false sense of one' self, a hallow excuse for a life
Becoming unconscious, an object for them to sell.