> The Darkener's Console

Sitting on the pedestal is a flaming torch, made of ivory.

Hollow —

It sounds like you
But it’s hollow
It’s soul is ruined
It’s so shallow

Replicating nuance like autotune
Fooled some, but not all
They say it’s coming soon
You won’t be able to tell

It’s hollow
Tomorrow
You can’t emulate the soul
Impossible


Categorised as: [OC] Original Content | Blogs | Lyrics, Poetry



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