The stars are made of silver needles
glaring down with pre-apocalyptic fury
embellishing the reddened sky
devouring its dark divide

We can feel our bodies around us
blushing and heated up, covered in mild shadows
and swimming with impurities
even as we're shameless in our indulgences
we can feel the ache pulling on us

We can feel our souls pulling from us
our bodies atrophy and lose their meaning
sexless, we can feel we mean nothing
we fear Death's crushing weight
dragging us into an uncertain plane