I'm heading for the graveyard that lays ahead in white-cold silence and time has come for me to collect wages. | Peacefully I watch the picture for the power is on my side. | I smell the candles, I hear their feeble cracking as they keep burning amidst headstones conceived from insides of the dead. | I do close in, and reach out for their heat. | My nostrils frail as if I were a beat just when the sworming of those who've perished reaches my bare feet. | I rule as king over this wasteland, I"m torn apart by hunger and possesion. | Endless passing thoughts are haunting me and I am sad. | Too violent fleshlights caress my mind, the way that water soothes the thirsty lips of the condemned. | The grey-robed mourners are silenced now, and store at me as if they were awaiting some sign from high above.