Lletres: Final Burden (The). Processor. Overgrowth.

Can all neglect differences amongst crumbling environments. Scorching the systems to ash. Diversity within, bleak coordination. This is my way out. Explosive veins, all over my arm. Explosive veins, all over my life. Coat my eyes, sins to the air. Crush able bodies to the dirt and so comes the end. Here it comes approaching from the back. Cataclysm is coming. We will be fucked by our own creation. Beyond sight. The immense comfort found only in solitude. Affect you, infect me. This ever demanding presence. This ever demanding presence is felt. We are the cancer, obliterate the center. We are the cancer, obliterate existence. Take over the body. Concentrate, focus all, twisted, contorted, broken frame. Penetrate cracks to blow. Torch the bitch