I am the one who is always exhuming
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I am the one you think you see in the darkest of nights
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I have yet to reconcile the thoughts within myself
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For still I am one with the dead
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Oh, sanguine blood of thy corpse
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Quench my thirst and stain my skin
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Oh, how ironic it is to feel so alive
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When you cease to exist
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I adore what I have become
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I have longed for such a love in my dreams
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And my wrath will not subside until this love is mine
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Forever I remain the hideous figure treading these unholy grounds
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For I have failed the one who has created me
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My conscious is telling me to ingest the flesh of the deceased
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And with my tongue I shall lick the graves of all who will follow me
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Mark my words, they will pay
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I still am one with the dead
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And I swear to all that are dead
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To All That Are Dead
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| Whitechapel |
