the degradation of symbiosis,   archaic resolve,   modern deception   rectified in nothingness   as my hand strikes you down   my right hand shall strike you down      such disgust bathed in blood   you inhale the industrious breath   in this pathetic existence called man      If this is life, then what is death?      (not sung...)   A looking glass view    at the man who dies alone    in a tomb with pure gold.