Hope

This is a voice
coming from the past
oh, ancient guitar player
you can scream at last!

Hope for lustful revenge
endless aenima pain
society's charred a name
forcing a condemned change

Though we shared our secrets
we still feel alone and abandoned
and our wallets smell whiskey
Join us, in this floral voyage

Let them cleanse our soul
we are sick of it all; let them seek,
let them get us up on our feet
Lost in quiet but tender regards

Greetings from a new age
where mucus-like clouds
tear the soothing velvet morning breeze
Let them gods cleanse your soul
hatred stands for love incest with sex.

Cursed or blessed
What's the difference?