World of the blind. Mead of frail daggers. Fortress of evanescent roads, Bewitched by unknown passengers. Racing through dark passages. Like blind men reading blank letters. Eight estate of this street Dressed in phantasm and hate, Blossoming flowers wilt Scents of drumming war Deluge, in the city of the sun, Ticks of the hours cause fright Dreams wane, vision sore As tides haunts hearts. World of the blind Inmates in the prison of their minds Unkind fellows of fate Lost in the stage of dust, Like postmen with shallow hearts Spoon-fed by the past And the storms of the present. Along the windy coast of savage We rest at the edge of falling walls, Bathed by the splash of ichor Casting tears in tomorrow's bowl, Horrible faces of this age Eerie noises in rowdy streets, Like casualties in uncertain markets We are bruised, naked in life's paths. World of the blind... Prostitutes of ignorance.. Selling their virtue for coins of shame.. We walk behind...
Words weaved from the tentacles of abysmal thoughts...