Nobody would stay interested in me if I was normal

Let's just say I was testing the bounds of reality. I was curious to see what would happen. That's all it was curiosity.

Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws.

The most loving parents and relatives commit murder with smiles on their faces. They force us to destroy the person we really are: a subtle kind of murder.

The spectator is a dying animal.

There are images I need to complete my own reality.

All our lives we sweat and save, Building for a shallow grave.