Atrophy - Cesium 137, Cesium_137

There’s a wolf amounst us

He wears my face

Finding solace

In the most fitting place

Lake bound lady

Do you enjoy my company

As we swim

Beneathe the tide

With even syetry

What lies beneathe

Our tales of sarrow

Take this chance

For tomarrow…

A cold wind

Smooths the surface

A half-life becomes a race

Removes all perception

Invoking as altered states

We hold to form

The cure and its disease

As we swim

Beneathe the tide

With even symetry

What lies beneathe

Our tales of sarrow

Take this chance

For tomarrow…

There’s a wolf

Amounst us

He wears my face

Finding

Solace

Without a trace

What lies beneathe

Our tales of sarrow

Take this chance

For tomarrow…