My dogma   A trait of this war   Leads to an endless oblivion   I can't see beyond this fixation   As it gouged my eyes out      I'll fall   But never hit the ground      Abolishing gazes surround me for I am not atoned      Pranayma   Now help me breathe   Gasp the last bites of air from this cellar   My lungs constricted by anticipation   As I prepare to enter the other side      I'll fall   But never hit the ground   I fall   But never hit the ground      Constellations disappeared through suffocation   Air vanished through the hole   Let to rot eternally in dimensions beyond unreal   Hell is around the corner   And already here      This is the autobiography of a murderer