Rigorous torture, by prolonged lapses of time alone. Holding it in, my content rots and foul fumes replace oxygen with hate. No longer am I sane.
More and more destrudos, less and less libidos this does not mean to kill..
this is not mactation only my sensation
its slowly consuming my will.
No rights to balance the wrongs. -permanent self mutilation Composure consumed Composure consumed
Contemporary sanity face fucked with my permition I will choose to kill. I will choose to kill.
This is my foul soul speaking through me. Beware, no restrictions. I am losing grip on my reality and no one seems to care. (and) My thoughts turn to actions.
There is toil. And nothing else to find Disintegrating self ordinance
Toil. Your prayers are wasted. Selfish Lies!
Death to us all. My salvation. It's coming. It's coming. It's coming. It's coming! there is toil. Your promises are empty.
Panic is sent into my soul like the privacy of infantry. To be..
A patient man.
The trials and pain.
Third eye wide. It won't close for you. It won't close. It is just open.
It makes you lose your mind. All the time.
It makes you lose your mind..Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
