| Divide the truth, and count the bruises, dig deep inside of coffins, to find old slipknoted nooses. Absorb the anarchy, touch the terror, catch the chaos. Throwing dirt over a body thats still warm, burying the battles of the past, along with bones and stones of the hated mass. Experiment with extra causulties, kill the feeling of your Pride dwindleing. Desire, its a token, just make sure your soul isn't broken. Can you hear this? Do you feel this? This is a Master calling his creatures. A prophet letting it all out of the non-counterfiet book of Bracketing Blisters from the march of Faith, Fate, and Murder of the Falsehoods, this puts us all into the direction of correction. Waiting for the Misery to tie itself in a bind, watching the syphony sparkle and shine, like a black pearl in the moon light. Living with Exceptional Heresy of the Unstopible Menance. |
