LIVE REPORT: Grief Ritual, Calligram, Harrowed & Worn Out at The Black Heart, London
Escape this torment, the global horror.
Escape this torment, the global horror.
My head’s in clouds, I’ll never rain down.
There’s nothing like a cremation party.
I’ll watch you die a marionette with no strings.
My path will be your last.
Race towards the sun, my crippled pride undone, and all that makes me real, secedes to stone and steel.
Solitude is a soft disease.
Tightrope walk a fine thread through this abattoir world.
A life through jaded eyes of the darkest shade.