The Grotesque Illusion Of Being

Footprints from the past, slowly covered in dust
Scorching echoes and voices of a time gone by
Crippled and broken, lost along the way
Still dreaming or drowning
Tell me, what have I become?

A glimpse of light is burning my flesh
The innocent are cursed
We are marching into oblivion
Betrayed by infinity

The illusion of time, the illusion of being
Seduced by the grotesque