Lyrics Souls of the Unborn - Kashmere, Jehst

Souls of the Unborn

From the depths of the nothing my will is manifested
Raise up from the dust, homeboy you’re getting tested
In this final wager, man!!!
I’m on some next shit
Order from chaos, I’m getting this perfected
The dragon, is getting stronger in the belly of the mother
Hope you’re a fast runner!
There’s always somewhere to run nowhere to hide
From the dark side, unless you can fly
But even then go high enough and you’ll die
You need divine assistance, the vision in your eye
Most of us wear the blindfold of ignorance, why?!
Is it the laughable matter?
Follow like sheep so nobody laughs at ya
Except for the devil, the evil plan hatcher
Crazy like the man in the mirror
A reflection of me, now I’m seeing things clearer
Go against the grain or walk into the jaws of hell
Peace to the George Orwell (yeahhh! yeahhh!)
Silver chaos pendant
I’m dropping ill spells in the physical dimension
Over my tantric altar I spit the ill verse
Close my eyes, see the ill scene like Steven Spielberg
I’m walking, you’re wondering where I’m heading?
To the hills of the armageddon!
Let us pray for the souls of the unborn
Roadkill in the headlights of the juggernaut
Blood pumps fast with the force of the metaphor
Burst forth from the chest, birth of the xenomorph
I’m the shadow that emerged from the cellar door
Planets in my palm get crushed like a pepper corn
Watch how I meteors
Teleportation my method of transport
At the epicenter of the sandstorm
Many men perish in the belly of the rancourt
Though they ran for the cover of the trees
They were already marked with the number of the beast
Scheduled for extermination
The murderer’s blade is the fertisilation
Of Satan’s egg, rebirth of the godhead
Life on the planet no more than a cot death
See how the milk turns blood red
The undead scattter in the light of the sunset
Protect the innocent, brave the police state
Blade in the back, the betrayal of a team mate
Just a sacrificial offering
Throw away toys for the dark lord’s offspring
And I’m locked in the prison of this conflict
Trampled to death in the middle of the mosh pit
And I’m not the door man, I’m the locksmith
Follow me, fourth horseman of the apocalypse