Isles Of Isolation

The Statues Upon Their Stage Forging Armageddon's And Bullying The Sole Sold Soul Encircled By Demons Of Demonstration, Hatcheting Limbs And Roping Necks. The Endlessness Of Echo's And The Depths Of Their Structure, Wonder And Wander, Arrive At Deaths Door Just To Be Turned And Thrown Towards The Starting Line, The Path Now Set Aflame. There Are Daggers Rising From Their Graves And Icicles Falling From The Heavens, I Can't Safely Say I've Seen A Future Outside Of Creation, I'll Keep Searching.