| Penance for this breath of black betrayal
|
| Stoic, famished guard the walls of this scarlet temple
|
| Awaits to hear the sound of armies marching underground and the screams of
|
| Failures conquest
|
| A wish to waste and rise alone with only the wolves i call my own
|
| A starving withered statue
|
| Amidst the ruins you once knew
|
| Condemned to defend
|
| The weakened flesh of this facade from all that breathes and lies within
|
| The vultures swarm and sharpen their talons
|
| Upon wings of torment flying
|
| Who is to say there is no art in dying
|
| A starving withered statue
|
| Amidst the ruins you once knew
|
| A shrine for the sick to gather
|
| From here to hell, from soulless to shattered
|
| From soulless to shattered
|
| To destroy and conquer this failure with a will of sharpened razors
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| To forget what has been done
|
| And all I have over come
|
| Penance for this breath of black betrayal
|
| Stoic, famished guards the walls of this scarlet temple
|
| Awaits to hear the sound of armies marching underground
|
| And the screams of failures conquest
|
| Upon wings of torment flying
|
| Who is to say there’s no art in dying |