Traveller’s Wounds Lord of the Lost

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Recently bereaved
A tourist with no trail
Distant from the sane
That voice repeats a phrase
Does such confusion
Serve to amuse you?
Change the gruesome tune

Talk to a lonesome traveller
Yet there's nobody else in here
The ache of loss is so severe
I shiver in the chromosphere
And miss machine found her soulmate
That swine 6942.8
He lasts all night without a break
Her lubricant, my one keepsake

I've witnessed tortures
Lows life should not know
The most hellish place
Lies inside the mind
Do my delusions
Serve to amuse you?
These traveller's wounds?

In this ocean of emptiness
I sail alone under duress
In my decline I've acquiesced
Madness and guilt did coalesce
Plagued by a visit to the past
An impotent iconoclast
Whose vision of that final dance
Will make a grave for circumstance