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Death is your own hallucination.Apart from one's own hallucinations,in reality there are no such things existing outside oneself as Death,God or Demon. Act so as to recognize this.Whatever may come it is quite sufficient for you to know that these apparitions are your own thought-forms. Recognize this to be the Bardo and be free..-Tibetan Book of the Dead-

There is a storm coming
And it is headed straight for our shore
Hold on to your heart
I've seen the signs before
How wicked these hours
These time we've seen before
How we built these odes
To our God

Words are washed dry in a digital ocean
Fizzing seltzer wears my teeth away
Heartaches on sugary mounts rushing around
Tremors in my fingers are leaving me floating

Why are we speaking?
we could be dreaming
Why are we sleeping?

There is a reaper, whose name is Death
And, with his sickle keen
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath
And the flowers that grow between (2x)

'Shall I have naught that is fair?', saith he
'Have naught but the bearded grain?
Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me

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Я молюсь нет
Я кайфую от того что будет дальше
Да пизди ты всё чё хош