Descending Darkness - Grip Inc.

Pushed into the

Mounth of the Abyss

A world that owes nothing

Trapped in an emotionless empire

Silent are endless parades

Respect like smoke

Lost in cyclones

Breathing along the isle

of no return

The gavel crashes upon

A system built for

The substitute fix only to shatter

Crisp brittle sorrow

Smacks hard into melting faces

Friction sinks into rotting masses

Swallowed by seas of sand

Deep in the bloody soil

Buried under the sins of our fathers

Bodies splinter

From the bowels of sorrow

Escaping to twist in the wind

The scent of darkness