---

Eye of the necrotic sickness.
Murderer of crows.
Channel catalytic static through your naive pulse.
Resolving mind in to grain as your flesh peels off bone.
As this purgatory takes shape become sedated and let go.
A black tongue dripping down my throat.
Into my arm, a horror I can't kill.
An evil that wants me gone.
Addiction, infecting my septic dreams.
Coiling itself around me, closing in, twisting as I bleed.
I of the necrotic sickness.
Murderer of crows.
Channel catalytic static through your naive pulse.

---

Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.