To stars and suns we carry

To superhumans names in stone

Into the depths of seas of grand desires

To the thought pure, into nothingness

Limitless solitude without numbers and names

Where names a curse no longer are

The ideal one- the true number of man

The sick stench of crowded dogs

With their eyes closed

That are looking into others for gods

Rotting millions keeping guard

Of their own truths which you cannot see

A many-headed worm of names uncounted

Is eating its tail in wretched self-hatred

Blinded millions on the road to death

The hunger of self-destruction always defeats

Raise your gaze- you can't

You won't- it's easier to follow the herd

You suck on an empty bag of words

You fulfill yourself in a cage

Of your own blindness

Carry me, my wings of hatred

Above the fear of knowing all other

I want to see my very own death