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Gnashing clouds of smoke, coldhearted broken choke

Consumes a world as it expands

Hanging in my throat, acidic carcassed bloat

What can I do to escape or break this wretched place?

Plans made to their own accord and they don't include me

In blind-eyed benign prophecy

Some gleaming future trope, I'd rather choke on rope

Than see powers act like they're built on moral ground

Hanged by my hand

Hanged

A feral fever grows, too vapid to dispose

Behind a poison smile, decline in denial

Hanged by my hand