Mayflower

Lay my soul to rest

Myrkur

Wearing all black today for the death of my motivation.

The texture of the soul is a liquid that casts a vermilion flood From a wound carved as an oath it fills the river bank a sanguine fog These arms were meant to be lost Hacked, severed and forgotten The texture of time is a whisper that echoes across the flood It's hymn resonates from tree to tree, through every sullen bough it sings These boughs were said to be lost Torn, unearthed and broken Earth to flesh, flesh to wood Cast these limbs into the water Flesh to wood, wood to stone Cast this stone into the water

Save money by staying home in pyjamas and avoiding life.

Empires of loneliness, Swallow the sun

My cat and I are always talking shit about you. Just kidding, I don't have a cat...

When you have silence, it’s hard to keep stuff out. It’s all there. And you can’t get rid of it.