It’s all this reeking ego craves
the sun to never set
Why do threads of anger never linger
Why does the ember turn to stone?
to where the longing goes
in with the sins of old

A face of nothing, to never see
as blind as free

Everything I want is in the end of this
Everything I need will be the end of me

My negation
Will you know my name?
and sense the danger coming
My negation
Can you see my face?
What’s to become of me?

The art of reduction
Stripped down through what seems defendable
scaled to bare revisions
to stop making sense

Levelling pillars of towering fear
Rational instincts and insight to spare
end of falseness, end of grace

Everything I fear is in this failing
Nothing of what I am is in this end

My negation
Will you know my name?
and sense the danger coming
My negation
Can you see my face?
What’s to become of me?