Subjected nevermore, to the whims of the dying
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Steal their flesh, from the pool of the lying
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Injected more, erythematous moisture
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Beyond high, by the chosen kind
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Feel it, to breathe evermore
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Of the wicked of the world, where processions' end
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Subjected nevermore, to the fears of the dying
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Feel their high, attempts to allude
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Your flesh will sigh, in the midst of moisture
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One sect more for the chosen kind
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Can you feel it? Can you feel their high?
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Feel it! Breathe evermore!
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Breathe from the chosen kind, then lie back down
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Feel their high and breathe evermore
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End your search for the nevermore
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Procession
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Genitorturers |