A Song to Ruin

A lone voice crying in the wilderness make the straight way for the coming of the... A dry throat stutters on an empty vision of milk and honey and desolate quiet A dry mouth falters on the opening blast of, a song to ruin what it left behind A bare sole longing for the feel of concrete and a lone voice crying in the wilderness I have these dreams when I'm feeling sick of, unfinished patterns that I can't collate at all, of an inward breath in a land bereft of uncrippled figures, of an exhalation, of the Himavant, of a pulse. --- A Song To Ruin - Million Dead