Who really knows why it explodes after sitting there silent for years? Who really counts the deadly amount of red flesh chopped off the living block? Who ever sees the depth of disease down to the bone of our cold heart-stone? Who ever stops the air-raid of thoughts that instantly kills the good that was built? Who can control the horrific flow of dark blood that seems made to make seas? Who can explain why again and again again and again again and again it always takes incredible place?