Remnants of speculative chemistry.
Prophetically calamitous dreams
The undead surrounding us like moving frequencies
There's a house or a cage
Something alright for the disturbed
In any case, the entryways continued opening
There was dependably a rupture
The risk was covering up inside
In any case, nobody could know
On the off chance that we adjust the past
The future can't develop
Running and mauling our way through trees
The rooms of my mind are scratched and unclean
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