I watched as the lamb opened the first of the seven seals. Thine blinding gleam pierced the air as the horseman approached bearing the flag flown beneath the wailing waters of Cocytus. Revealing to me the book of the wicked Speaking antediluvian tongues written in dark matter "I hath witnessed a deconstruction of your psyche, lead on by mortals, posing as serpents" The clocks weigh heavy upon my collar I can no longer weep I can no longer writhe I stand frozen in wait to be cherished Yet my spine remains punctured with knives and fangs. The dissimulating speech of mortals sends me cascading into the winds of melancholy. I feel my power fade by each passing day. Must they be so untrue? I can no longer bear to roam amongst the worms that crawl upon our Earth. The wind bites in the moonlight's waning. The horseman speaks "You must cast the goddess of treachery on a bed of suffering and make those whose tongues drip with trickery suffer intensely with her" I must call upon the primordial ones to serve in the scourge of Earth. And I will strike her children dead I shall pierce the heads of the betrayers and split their tongues to bleed upon my feet They wail with entrails dragging across scorched pavement. Reverberation of hope eclipsed. Maliciously consuming the fresh glistening flesh. Gnawing on the viscera, viciously chomping away. Innards scatter and enter my lungs. A scorn colder than the void's howling echo Their cries for mercy muted by their own cleaved tongues The cosmos shall hear the burning whines A scorn colder than the void's howling echoTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
