And i wake from my dreams that succumb my reality, the world revolves away from me. Completing the cycle that we call year, obliverating the chances of seeing things more clear.

From the point of where i stand across the horizon, i see a world enslaved and emprisoned into believing that freedom is within reach from the words written on a fake preaidential speech.

Dying is living as ironic and cliche, helping in one hand and killing on the other. When would this routine end? When heaven falls down and hell ascends? Bound by the rules that plead us human, surrendering to the thought that was idealized by man.