Overmars Obsolete
I close my eyes on monochrome grey skies
A backdrop forever soiled with a feeling of futility
Excreta of an empty life where habits breed the Alienating
I foresee nothing but ordinary renunciation
Your eyes open on this gangrenous set
Nothing to kowtow you, but I can already picture us dead
Such assurance emanating from you,
What kills me makes you stronger
Within the opaqueness of my servitude,
My reddest wrath turns colourless
No colour with enough heat to disguise abomination
It’s hanging in the balance, right inside,
Where nothing can appease aversion
Let’s fight our frigid fate with an obsolete optimism
Our eyes close as one on the same picture of defeat
