This will die out.
Narrative: Fear. a fever is dancing in stride with our metronome memory
hipocracy here. painting a portrait that's dripping with crass composition
fumbled trust, the father is dead. cathedrals are burning
lies fuel fires, fear burns red, now i'm cold. ***going inside of our heads.
when we whisper: danger, danger, pull the lever. turn the page and i burn better in the morning.
Heartlessness. Narratives. Christ, where'd you go?
Impassioned. Abandoned. Why, you were wrong.


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i fell in love with the image as soon as i saw it, it was kinda hard to work with becuase it had a very watercolor feel, so i tried to rectreate that same watercolor feel in the background, i kept it pretty simple since im new to making enviroments. :) well i thought it turned out decent, didnt really put a title on there, but o well. enjoi