If I could anoint your corpse with the my myrrh of my perversion. Would I be worth enough to confess your death? If my hidden prayers were strong enough to be the holy claws that reap your flesh and leave you naked before the eye of redemption. Would you remember me at the time of seed? But unless I see you bleed. I cannot be your disciple in apolytrosis. As I am smelling your death, as I am consuming the drug of your ecstatic faith. I am gettling closer to touch venialness. If I could built a sadistic church with your blood and bones. Would you come to me in devotion and slay your soul? An unyielding suffering, an ongoing deteriorate of damnation. Is our temple of grace, is our temple of pain and of Cathartirial sacrifice to touch venialness. If the magnitude of your distorted stare is the disformal reflection of my spirit, the hideous mirroring of my daimonic nature. I can only exorcize my self through your extinction. If I was exiled in the desert of your devouring corruption. Would I be worth priest enough to preach your putrefaction? If I could held a handful of forgiveness. Would you be my suicidal son and my sheep among the beasts?
Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa. |
|
