The Moth Gatherer - Phosphorescent Blight

Leading down to the phosphorescent blight At the end, there is nothing The heavens are paintings of ash A gallery of failure projected on the skin Detached this world long ago A culling dawns in the horizon Treading water among the filth A determined path Leading down to the phosphorescent blight At the end, there is nothing The smell of corrosion veils reality Decline of psyche and society Equilibrium has been breached Rings will ripple through eternity Tides of tomorrow, will bring what may Propelled through space, unable to diverge I can see the phosphorescent blight At the end, there is nothing