Текст: The Academy Is.... Memento Mori.

this will die out.
Narrative: Fear. a fever is dancing in stride with our metronome memory
hipocracy here. painting a portrait that's dripping with crass composition
fumbled trust, the father is dead. cathedrals are burning
lies fuel fires, fear burns red, now i'm cold. ***going inside of our heads.
when we whisper: danger, danger, pull the lever. turn the page and i burn better in the morning.
Heartlessness. Narratives. Christ, where'd you go?
Impassioned. Abandoned. Why, you were wrong.
this will die out.
Narrative fear. a fever is dancing in stride. Metronome memory.
hipocracy here. it's painting a portrait that's screaming "the silence of dying."
fumbled trust, the father is dead. cathedrals are burning.
lies fuel fires. fear burns red and i'm cold. ***going inside of our heads.
when we whisper: danger, danger, pull the lever and i burn better in the morning.

Heartlessness. Narratives. Christ, where'd you go?
Impassioned. Abandoned. Why, you were wrong.
*long random talking*
Heartlessness. Narratives. Christ, where'd you go?
Impassioned. Abandoned. Why, you were wrong.
we've forgotten how to read. we've forgotten how to believe.
the text has gone dark. the author receeds.