Exercises in Futility III

We hold an honorary degree in natural science
 For stratigraphy of rock bottom
 The layers were aplenty, as above, so below
 But mostly below
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 The research is vast, thorough and firsthand
 And it's a broad array of sources
 For the complete guide to spiritual asshole of the world
 A tour in words, sounds and pictures
 Of the true south of Nadir
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 Through burial grounds
 For broken dreams
 And crippled souls
 The graves are shallow
 We would dig them up with our bare hands
 Just to rise above for a split second
 And see them basked in the light of a dead sun
 Beneath the sky of shit
 And then take notes
 Meticulously
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 We would consume deathbed confessions
 Create a language of fading words
 For this night is without end
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 For this night is without end
 We would compute dynamics of grief
 And logic of venom
 And we would listen
 As history is written on cold skin of prophets
 With vulture claws soaked in rat saliva
 For this night is without end
 For this night is without end