First Death (Every Man Is a Moth to the Flame)

Can we crucify our senses and compel ourselves to bleed?
Let us consummate our yearnings and advance beyond our needs
Can we master our obsessions and commemorate the flesh?
Let us yield to revelations and conceive what they confess
Can we vindicate our vices and regress to being chaste?
Let’s ascend into perfection with the hunger of the great

“Every man, every man is a star that will burn
That will sear like a moth to the flame
Just like kingdoms are born to descend
We will end”

Can we see the imperfections and accept what we’ve become?
Let us overcome confusion and advance beyond the sun
Can we glorify the inside and receive the ugly core?
Let us yearn the imperfections till repulsion is no more
Can we comprehend the symbols that reside within the soul?
Let’s proceed towards completion and surrender our control

Can we realize the symbols that are carved into our flesh?
Let us justify our actions and concede what we detest
Can we overlook the defects till repulsion is no more?
Let us savor all illusions and become ourselves once more
Can we fortify our longings and prepare ourselves to die?
Our life is our belonging let us use it like a knife