Sweet, demonic, current of remorse,
yes, you are there.
Dire circumstance of convictions:
you wouldn't dare.

I feel the warm, hollow thrill of damnation
when I follow you down
when I cover my eyes,
when I kiss the dying heat of your pilse.

Swollen tongues convulse with laughter,
apparent, yet unknown.
Fading beauty of structural divinity:
evil designs of love.

You are forever the happy spectre of pathos,
always hiding your strength,
never, prayers rife with lies.
Static void dispersing dead spirits,
always hiding your strength,
never, prayers rife with lies.