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Bloated with disease |
|
A psychophantic grease that clings |
|
Like a shroud thrown over me |
|
A coat of gloden fleas |
|
And by their gleam |
|
The shadows grow to me |
|
This soul is sick with wicked exploration |
|
My vulgar habits stitched the rabbit hole |
|
A welcome mat for infestation |
|
Fettered from the get go |
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Listen to me now |
|
For the road to glory goads you |
|
Thistles on the path |
|
Always cast by the one who knows you |
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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 |
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They splay night skies with desolation |
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And the Devil never lets go |
|
Fate caught me |
|
In flagrante delicto |
|
Shame taught me |
|
Hells 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 psychopathic 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 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 one who knows you |
|
From within the mirror |