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Strolling through hellscapes whistling Faceless shapes decorate the periphery Nothing of weight penetrates our domes of ignorance ‘Nothing’ sounds great when you’re not listening Shapeless faces whistle past as a numbing breeze Careful not to stand and awake any epiphanies Nothing of weight penetrates our fog of insensitivity Amble to oblivion gladly If this island capsizes we’ll just float Sinking is another option though We are obsessed with ourselves, we’ll miss it Over stimulated by existing We are obsessed with ourselves, we’ll miss it This self-congratulatory world’s relentless Design the nothingness yourself Compartmentalise the guilt Lose any interest before you resent That’s existence well spent From Letras Mania