Crumbling World Falls Through My Hands

In My Mouth Taste Bitter Sands.

Grass Is Burning, Pulse Is Slow.

Drip By Drip My Backwards Growth... Crawl.

Fade To Hate.

And I'll Die Within My Fade

Wine, Song, Women, Birth

This Deflowered Mother Earth

Planting, Plowing, How She Grieves.

The Seeds That Grow These Dying Trees

Fade To Hate