Вершы: Circle Of Dead Children. Two-week Notice.

There is a wicked barrier that detaches and discolors our unattainable
dreams from our inescapable realities
Nothing chafes the ego more than the monstrous realism of eight hours of
subservience
applied for and anticipated so that the possibility of a less materialistic
existence could be avoided
Like slowly sucking cold tar through a narrow straw
Vomit upon your dreams

Slowly sucking until you die