That cold that feeds my blood,
Beholding the dead fortress of conscience,
Hold my hand while I stop breathing the
flames,
My suffered corpse will hit the
Ground while you pray for my life.
I can live anywhere,
Once it be outside my
flesh,
Yes! I belonged to the nightmare of existence,
Finally I've reached the rotting world of god,
I can't accept a god bigger
than death,
Feel the sun getting colder,
Awake the demons
You fed on your cries and laments.
Revelate them in a stream of
endless contempt.
Memories will adorn your coffins,
An orgy of mass destruction
And unordered thoughts,
Mindless and violent
ritual,
The seed of perseverance that dies in reverence.
Chaotic antithesis described in a book as salvation,
Denying the image
of a god
That no longer deserves being adored,
Sculptured in world that forgot to be buried.
