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Artist:Phoenixpyre  Album:Spectrum 

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I (WHITE RAGE) And when the rats shuffle from the woodwork brandishing shears like torches and hearts like pitch, we'll know whose ears are deaf to cause. And when the wolves shrouded in unstable devil grins pursue the scent of guilty blood, we'll know whose ulna is ripe for dissipation. Their eyes bled a murderous pheromone and we could smell tomorrow burning on Doomsday hillsides. We welcome the absolute with trembling stretched palms and unfurl the carpet of decline. II (GOLDEN FEAR) Perfect still lifes could never capture the horror of imminent demise, of exsanguination. A stump for a tongue resonates yet: "Love, I'm drowning. Drowning like promises in the proximity of deflated stars. And the sight of dawn is as insufferable as a corpse's awakening. I'd paint you a sunset of red and yellow stripes, but it's the life-force draining through my fingertips that burns like forgotten dreams. It's the memory of love dying in fits that stings like python bites. I am the heavy ghost of emptiness, drinking mud as wine; sculpting life as gaps." We compose symphonies in funeral attire and imbibe words with ebony finishes. We flail snow angels in the summer grass, intestines wrapped like halos above our head. Tears will wash away the ache. III (BLACK STAIRWELL) We depart, sliding against the

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