| The welkin disappeared
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| There is no horizon
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| The sun, the primeval mother, abandoned us
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| It despairingly burns behind the shroud
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| The pervasive shroud of the deathly ash
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| The orphaned nature, the last vital sign
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| Fades out in the shadow, burying the old vivid earth
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| I knew that even light needs darkness to shine
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| But learnt that every darkness always kills the light
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| Heavy clouds went grey and down
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| Crushing lungs with acid air
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| This isn’t home!
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| This is the civilization’s grave
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| This place smells of grimness and fear
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| The great vigil of the pending extinction
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| Words spat out from the prophet’s mouth
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| Always tasted so dire, now taste so familiar
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| Heavy clouds went grey and down
|
| Crushing lungs with acid air
|
| This isn’t home!
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| This is the civilization’s grave
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| Wean off being «human» with every single breath
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| We perish in a concrete gas chamber
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| Inhaling the self-prepared fate!
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| Black visions went real, more real than we’d thought
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| We were born as free men but the world we have forged
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| Negates the perfect plan and forces us to crawl
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| Life — death’s hybrids slouching around
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| Prosopagnosia? |
| Everywhere same blurry faces
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| Faces hidden behind the masks — the failed escape
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| Masks saving life or just protracting the end! |