Starve, Beg & Die A.k.a. Fuck You, Kill Me

Circle Of Dead Children

Compositor: Circle of Dead Children

May a black hole be our planet's urn.
Tomorrow will be the day when nobody remains.
Memories of mankind fossilized in space.
Trapped to the guts of a dying monster.
Today sun sets chilling death and leaves us with only the sounds of deafening barbaric noise and confusing information.
A horde of angels with goats feet standing tall.
One hoof upon our chests smothering us all.
Cities of men thrown into the atmosphere and crushed back to Earth.
No hope.
No love.
No sunlight or faith to squeeze through the cracks.
Destroy the people of ideas.
The last grips of strength will slip and all shall descend into the swelling birth-rite of blackness.
Together you and I souls blended and filed into the dumpsters of irrelevant history.