Lletres: Norma Jean. O God the Aftermath. Vertebraille.

Like death never content
Starve the old and feed the new and it's all your fault
Was there love once or have I forgotten her?

I have been sold into slavery
I try to drown my sorrows but the sorrow swims well
It's all your fault

Your fault
A lust for complete nothingness that lusts for more nothing
Motion without meaning action without function
Nothing will breed nothing