Lletres: Anathema. A Fine Day To Exit. Leave No Trace.

:
Born to the glare of the senses
spoon the reality infused a new inherent
passive contentment
you are so easily amused

Here and now we
are gone in a happy
a dream in the
passage your time
chances are fading
this world isn't waiting
the moment is passing
you by

Questions lie beneath the surface
the fools are fooled once again

A concience
we stole our existence
and gladly cast it to the wind

Here and now we
are gone in a happy
a dream in the
passage your time
chances are fading
this world isn't waiting
the moment is passing
you by