Ofcoarse, the wind howls at midnight.
Yes, the concrete is stained with the blood, sweat, and tears of naive youngins who believe the world is comfortable to live in.
Obviously, the hands of time grip to the rocks of chaos on the mountain of fate.
Yet, the river of alleviation coarses through the valley of bliss.
Ofcoarse, the moon follows me home.
Yes, the soil is tainted with the parasites of greed, lust, sloth, gluttony, wrath, envy, and pride.
Obviously, the seeds of affliction grows trees of paradox in the forest of uncertainty.
Yet, the clouds of purity migrate gracefully in the sky of serenity.
Ofcoarse, the earth is alive.
Yes, the stones have words on them. A name, a date, a short description or phrase.
Obviously, the bodies of the victims lie within the caskets of phobia upon a graveyard of despair.
Yet, they rest in peace.
