| Bloated with disease
|
| A psychophantic grease that clings
|
| Like a shroud thrown over me
|
| A coat of golden fleas
|
| And by their gleam
|
| The shadows grow to be
|
| This soul is sick, this soul is sick with wicked exploration
|
| My vulgar habits stitched the rabbit hole
|
| A welcome mat for infestation
|
| Fettered from the get go
|
| Listen to me now
|
| For the road to glory goads you
|
| Thistles on the path
|
| Always cast by the ones who know you
|
| From the dark
|
| We are less than worms and vermin
|
| Black clouds low and roll
|
| Shipwrecked in my psyche
|
| By siren fantasies
|
| Serpents
|
| Curl about my goals
|
| Hissing through the mirror
|
| As they slither over me
|
| Now…
|
| I pray you see the light
|
| Before huge onyx wings behind despair arise
|
| They splay night skies with desolation
|
| And the Devil never lets go
|
| Fate caught me
|
| In flagrante delicto
|
| Shame taught me
|
| Hell’s self-obsessive fresco
|
| Ruled by horrors
|
| Grue, no butterfly become
|
| Cocooned in utter guilt
|
| The gutters silt has overrun
|
| My rue transcendence
|
| Sheol builds Golem
|
| And this offence to nature
|
| Is hunting independence
|
| The more I wallow in grief
|
| The more fatalist I fall
|
| To this engorging beast
|
| The greatest traitor of them all
|
| Bloated with disease
|
| A psychophantic grease that clings
|
| Like a shroud thrown over me
|
| A coat of golden fleas
|
| And by their gleam
|
| The shadows grow to be
|
| This soul is sick, this soul is sick with wicked exploration
|
| My vulgar habits stitched the rabbit hole
|
| A welcome mat for infestation
|
| Listen to them laugh
|
| For the roads to glory goad you
|
| Thistles on the path
|
| Always cast by the ones who know you
|
| From within the mirror |