Let me cut the barb-wier from around your neck my friend.
Your Angel of Decay is here.
You are a master of creation and a god in your own rights.
Let me ease your pain becuse I can see life in those Silver graphite eyes. Pull the strings how you wish I shall not leave you.
Feel free to rid your burdon my friend.
I gaze upon you and see the truth.
A caotic mind never sleeps.
