Exercises in Futility III

We hold an honorary degree in natural science

For stratigraphy of rock bottom

The layers were aplenty, as above, so below

But mostly below

The research is vast, thorough and firsthand

And it's a broad array of sources

For the complete guide to spiritual asshole of the world

A tour in words, sounds and pictures

Of the true south of Nadir

Through burial grounds

For broken dreams

And crippled souls

The graves are shallow

We would dig them up with our bare hands

Just to rise above for a split second

And see them basked in the light of a dead sun

Beneath the sky of shit

And then take notes

Meticulously

We would consume deathbed confessions

Create a language of fading words

For this night is without end

For this night is without end

We would compute dynamics of grief

And logic of venom

And we would listen

As history is written on cold skin of prophets

With vulture claws soaked in rat saliva

For this night is without end

For this night is without end