Vectors

Feel the shimmers, the embers of destruction Push the change and
we open the gate quietly
Ripening infatuations never elevate your 'right' reality Your final cue Your
compelling torments are plain Six feet from the rest herding the pests
This is a nest of preference reality Earth shapen When the
nightmare is almost complete Six feet from the rest herding the pests
This is a nest of preference reality Common sense, you have nothing to give
away Asking you about the former species
The deserters from the other realm Shady strings of manipulators Consolations
for the ultimate collapse