In Balcortac's stride he were as he never remained
Within the court of infinite passion, a gesture of loss that is gained
Breathed upon by morality which favors no single soul
A voidance of space that can house no one but he, a forever dark hole
And within residence, time had forgotten what form he once were
So he began to collect the ash of others lost, a reminder for him to one day be sure

Inspired by Billinski's " Peace, Love And Perfection" which can be found here http://soundcloud.com/billinski/pea.....and-perfection

*note/ uploaded as apparently original music coupled version never received picture only.