If you wish to escape this ridiculous biological paradox that is reality, one must choose between insanity or death.

Grinding, binding, the gears ever turn. The machine of reality, like clockwork insanity.

And even my day of birth, becomes nothing more than a grain of sand. A grain in lifes absurd hourglass.

I realize now, I was just a joker in the red queen's deck.

The universe is infinite and dark little one. And who's to say what strange horrors await us... patiently... quietly

And that day I learned the horrible truth of it all, I too saw black snow falling from a black sky.

Death is an art, and suicide is just a self portrait. A masterpiece of both pain and freedom.

I wonder why now that I have nothing to live for, I try so hard to stay alive.

Shall I show you the true nature of my dark and twisted soul? Or shall you continue in ignorant bliss?

You promised me freedom, but delivered only chains. Your chemical cocktail for happiness, is made from the blood of dreams.