It looks like,
Blood is warming just minds,
And thought is bruising The Soul.
Nails are clenching us,
And air scratches the lungs.
It looks like,
We\'ve gotten on misleading.
Our way of flying,
Is leading to a fallen star.
The Virgo is violently stretched.
It looks like,
Burns spread to organs,
Breath smells of brimstone.
A cold light shines through the eyes
And colors get nuances of gray.