Joys Of The Emptiness
Gregor MacKintosh / Nick Holmes
Breathing here, and the air is clear
Changes of which I could foresee
Violence caressing, impending distress
As my body lay sleeping, eternally bleeding, and
Shallow despair, broken years cannot repair
Summoned here, and all must see the hypocrisy
Peed back the face, the sorry mind, a vacant space
Born deprived, the moods expired in reality
A fantasy, based on harmony
A victim released accordingly
Scatter the ashes, remains of life's passages
Mocking and meaningless, toys of the empty, and
Mighty and proud, reaching up to touch the shroud
Tangled here, and far beyond from atrocity
Frozen and cold, bleak the memories of old
Times capsize the born desires for technology