Caught up in a whirlwind of confusion, every waking second of every waking minute of every waking hour of every waking day. Time isn't on my side; instead, it is the enemy. It's as if the second hand is ticking backwards slower than the time it takes for the light of the furthest sun to reach this desolate pit of doom.

I'm all numbed out but I have a confession to make: I can still feel and that is my downfall. I guess hope will be the last one to die, even if I depart first.

Zaklyatic Smekhom

O, rassmeites’, smekhachi!

O, zasmeites’, smekhachi
Chto smeyutsya smekhami, chto smeyanstvuyut smeyal'no.
O, zasmeites’ usmeyal'no!
O, rassmeshishch nadsmeyal'nykh – smekh usmeinykh smekhachei!
O, issmeisya rassmeyal'no, smekh nadesmeinykh smeyachei!
Smeievo, smeievo,
Usmei, osmei, smeshiki, smeshiki,
Smeyunchiki, smeyunchiki,
O, rassmeites’, smekhachi!
O, zasmeites’, smekhachi!