...left from no tomorrow...

as from the rapture to death
that becomes the birth in ashes
becoming from the final breath
telling of the salvation's lie
knowing of the tomorrow's
that drown with the ashes of sorrow
every breath that is spoken
every soul that remains broken
that when the seeing are blind,
gathered among the broken minds,
becoming of them, born again
that stands again, remains the same
which tells among them in repetition
that it would be in that -- hell
becoming of them,  born in ashes
which their bones become dust,
that in clay they are born,
that once again they'll burn
from the dust they would return,
that it would be the dreams
which are eaten by moth
as their memories are rust,
becoming of the lines of salvation,
as their nightmares draw damnation,
Waiting again as the laughter is heard,
where they have no sign of cures,
as they disappear to the obscure,
in the memory of gashes received,
the prayers in ashes never believed,
where it comes of their damnation needs
becoming of the words as they are spoken
from the dreams as they are broken,
where the fears are coming soon
from the memories of a darkened room
in memories dying in the day to day,
in words spoken in a silence
which are heard from them in whispers,
that become the death of years
when they gather in their tears,
from the rapture to grave,
telling from a lie among them
from their eyes seen in congregation,
where they stare upon a darkened sky
awaiting for the season of the lie,
feeding from ideas in their head,
which they stand -- raped and confused
among memories of a parasite
divided in seasons of dark and light,
gathered in the places of sadness
drawn from the infinity of madness
becoming from rapture and death,
as becoming birth and life
leaving from a godless belief
where they have no memory of tomorrow
which in dreams birth of the infinite sorrow,