The beauty of the flames' enthralling glare
A perfect sphere suspended in the air
A blinding light ignites to wash away
When all is dust, a shadow remains
In strokes of red, murder becomes art
It's influence still felt from afar
These blinking stars, in their evanescence
Burn their brightest just before the end
Mesmerized by the burning skies
Ensorcelled by destruction
Pacified by the noose around our neck
The perfect death
Asleep or dead? Inside or outside of my head?
Soothing sounds of torture so I might convalesce
Captivating strangulation, erotic suffocation
A contradiction designed for failure
That executes it's saviour
