3 acessos
The scars of time, Form not a tortured soul,
But the purulence, of which the spirit holds…
Vessel of sin, holds within,
Filth of this world,
Putrefy, purity defied.
Full of waste, Sewn inside
Enemies, not forgotten,
Leave our soul to rot…
Your body bears Disfigurement,
Projections of your soul
Your mind cannot commit…
Spew the bile,
Onto those, the subjects of your hate
The poison that pervades
The blade that does defile
The fermenting hate, That boils inside
Expel at once, Lest your body seep and die…
A carcass,
A figment of a man
Decrepit and old,
Awaiting the final bell…
Rise… and feel the call of agony.
Fall… and fill a restless grave.
Feed, on countless lives, eternity
Regurgitate, the sickness that dwells within.