No sunshine in the sky,
just a cold, bitter beginning.
All that surrounds us is reality,
what a painful chill.
It can't release itself upon us,
it's created within our eyes.
They explode with a fierce rupture,
nobody realizes the ghostly frame.
Yet it notices our lively failures,
It's full of blood, warm and cold,
Dripping, contaminated with rage.
Once the smooth pink is pricked,
the tornado of sin erupts for good.
At this moment, pain is reality.