Hands lurch forward with no hesitation. The hands push on, the resistance is laughable. Two paths of death or dying are now perceived. Eyes faced toward the sky, basking in the pain.
And his arms will rise up proudly, eyes faced toward the sky basking in the pain of reality.
Horns splitting his skull, translate his crimson painting, a centurial legacy, a perfect suicide. With blades in both hands, breaching the gut of people who will never hear their name spoken in majesty.
"Entwine me with shadow, the silence would be my hell"
Sitting in a bloodied lotus pose, bathed in the arrogance of his twisted meditation.
Bathed In Ash.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
