Partisans in a prominent havoc, we are all guests undone to this freak of a fest A balance on a strand o' frail declarations, A poorly-gained, richly-spitted isolation
Communes to the abyss' discipline, Insurgence as a pitch-lighted, eerie need Would these prints be of a pleasing sham? Would my prints be of a godly inking?
This ever-stressing principality is abortive, a vassal excellence encaged in looming fleering Cast in rust, in most capacious lands, This monstrosity is ever thickening
Communes to the abyss' discipline, Insurgence as a pitch-lighted, eerie need Would these prints be of a pleasing sham? Would my prints be of a godly inking?
Even applauding acts give off an echoing nastiness Now have the most atrocious worn a godly skin These so-called prophets and saints, I am devotional to doubt
To this point of self-abasing instance, when the screeching of those gone resonate to a scenery in ash
Partisans in a soothing havoc, all are All guests undone to this freak of a fest A balance on a strand o’ frail interpretations, A poorly-gained, richly-spitted vocation
Man, stand forth, Claim a verdict Child, shut away, All you’re left with is decay So, creep, screak up, speak up, claim your judgeTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
