This is the beginning of a time where these crusty sands were the core of the planet
from which we found this lava.
Volcanic eruptions are frequent.
The ice hits the lava, pulsing the air.
Destroying villages, destroying lives in the process.
The rise of volcanic eruptions is the beginning of time.
I don't have time anymore.
I'm so *** bored.
I don't have time anymore.
I'm so *** bored.
I adjust my voice, making a lot of noise.
I just crave love, good old silence.
I just want some *** violence.
Underneath the floor, I don't know anymore.
I just walk the road, I don't know where it goes.
Walking with my walls, there it goes, there it goes.
Looking around again and seeing the noisy hallway gets dimmed by the brighter lights.
The brighter lights shine on the darker, illuminating the indestructible, hurting the fragile inside.
Seeping in through the cracks of its imperfections, reaching in to make it seep out and shine.
Instead of passing in its light, we cover up the windows of our souls, to protect those that would never know its power.
To protect those not worthy.
Ultimately to make our way as a sacrifice to a far younger version of a seed that wouldn't grow.
A seed in the wrong potting mixture.