Shorn of apocryphal pride, the locks falls predicting strife. Cranium
|
exposed, denial of aesthetic. Push it a little farther. All of this burnt to
|
ashes, all of this torn to rags. I don't know what the fuck have I become?
|
Synapses snapping mortality decimated. Breakdown whiskey shifts hate into
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overdrive. Realizing it's murder of the self so clean. Hand reaches out
|
desecrates impunity. Ripping away foundation's identity replacing with
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shame. Transgression mythologized, indiscretions immortalized. Anger
|
inflamed with dry rot, pushing towards severance. What a bloody mess.
|
Visiting dark sites unknown, grief lands like a ton of bricks. All of this
|
burnt to ashes, all of this torn to rags...
|
|
-----------------
|
Suffering Bastard
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| Lamb Of God |
