Leftovers Poem by Ace Of Black Hearts

A simple poison will never do.
In this world in we are here to destroy.
Each and every dying moment.
It is the only way and case in which we survive.
The parasite is life.
Natures unbecoming bedside side manner.
Leaves most creatures to suffer, but not us, oh no we have out smarted her.
And one day we will kill her and our selves, in the same selfish act.
If we can't exist no one should.

Colder then the dead.
Hotter then the dead.

Colder then the dead.
Hotter then the dead.

Bleed mother earth.
Just die.
Taking our secrets to the grave.
A society of the truly depraved.
Building the biggest tomes.
Etching our names in all this stone and glass.
Do think it will make a difference when our time comes?


Colder then the dead.
Hotter then the dead.

Colder then the dead.
Hotter then the dead.

Bleeding hearts need to be fed.
False hope feeds this undying fire that we have set ablaze.
We can't accept somethings we just don't know.
Mapping out everything as we understand now, NOW, NOW.
There is only the present, and we believe somewhere in it lies our future.
But what if there is not one.
What if we are just a disease that has out lived its time.
In the schemes of things we are very small in both stature and size.
A plan will be devised.
And proof will become the secret to prestige, solve the riddle to the quota be famous and celebrated.

Colder then the dead.
Hotter then the dead.

Colder then the dead.
Hotter then the dead.

Destined to be destroyed by own arrogance.
Just because I can do this, does it mean I should?
A drain to the system.
We got a leak, dear boy seal it before it too late.
Going down in flames, flying in the metaphor of a jet plane.
A synonymous crash and explosion, the end of existence not just for us.
But also of all other life that be.
A legacy doesn't exist through ages of all time.
A disruption of the very space continuum.
As if we could, as if we should.

Colder then the dead.
Hotter then the dead.

Colder then the dead.
Hotter then the dead.

Because death no longer exist.

Colder then the dead.
Hotter then the dead.

Colder then the dead.
Hotter then the dead.

An absence of that which manifest is absolute nothingness.

Colder then the dead.
Hotter then the dead.

Colder then the dead.
Hotter then the dead.

What will be left?