salted creek: warning signs to kill a universe of dead bodies

we have a way with letting ourselves down. finding fault lines of time disappear as they fade into light. my arms go out to 45th street, as i pray to the walls that have betrayed me. ill note this to the names that have been crossed out, as the corner of our faces fall in the holes that we have dug. on this night the snow falls to trap us in. we run blind as we forget that our notes that we wrote find its way into the wind. we will read them aloud until the morning comes. until then our night will remain dark till we find a way back. every one seems to be repeating the steps that remained anonymous to the artifacts will forged in the belly of the beast. please dont leave me out, i have somethings that are needed to be said. even though you have seen the fires that reached us. ill regain conscious of this world that was built for me. wake myself up and arise the dead. the powder called dirt, birth of the unborn. you can see that im not really here, when the world ends. vague is the color of the sky. and all around you, you vividly see that nothing is going as planned. as the warning signs occurs, you will see that i am caught by saving you on the string. in the bottom of the world, in the darkest part of the day. my voice is let out and our lungs have been brought out. we need you opinion on this, nothing has ever been going as planned. i feel myself next you. as we think we are alive but really we are dead. nothing was ever really alive before it was dead.