Dead Internet

Finally balance and penance For dreaming of better things Simply, poor me and poor you We'd have done kind things with the money I’m sorry it was all me and for nothing, nothing but in Final reckoning It has meaning you cannot imagine Like horns raining down from In final reckoning It has meaning you cannot imagine And final reckoning It has meaning you cannot imagine A tone, detuned so low That the writhing rhythm is a klaxon It's wailing and random A pattern mistaken for passion It's friction between the soul And the world outside of your own soul Its grinding is deafening Like horns rained down from heaven Heaven, like heaven Like horns rained down from heaven Heaven Like horns rained down from heaven