Death Immaculate

Enthral

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    O fathers of the wildest nightmares that are soon to pour like the darkest rain all around this
    servant
    Who stained his credibility by the bloody deed to feed only the hunger of one
    And who therefore stole from the tree that bare the
    Fruits and truths that were meant to feed the needs of many
    Take from me now, what you see as wrong but don't leave!

    The contours of the light that once shone all around you
    I cannot see anymore, I hunger for death immaculate

    You may believe that you rule me, but wham are you to say that by the amount of rewards
    I have earned on this earth, you are given the first of nights and might to judge me?

    For the treat called sympathy, do not speak to me, for of her dignity I have seen none!
    But if such a blessing may be given. And for all of her worth, then let me have some!

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    Lend me now, a beggar soon to come, a penny
    To quench his thirst for life, or at least a tiny fraction of what you so proudly speak of to be
    your mercy!

    Or am I for all the regrets you are meant to forget?
    From the corned I am trapped in, it has never shone so clear to light that you were, it did never
    touch me!

    My soul, to be a hell for eternal prayers of dying
    Yes, for I am destined to become an outcast
    The soothing saviour for all kith and kin
    To lay their plagues and feverish guilt next to

    My body, to be the deepest of graves for all living to fall into
    An earthy abyss for all harlots, and their likes to copulate
    And with me they shall fester in the grime and gutter
    And give praise and warning to what still is unseen

    Our pipes to sing our sin called sympathy
    In harmony to celebrate to dying of vitality
    And to become the manifestation of all
    Haunting visions of earlier agening forever

    We are the performers of the same play
    An death over and over again
    Every time the curtain is lifted
    We reach nearer towards the end
    So it has been, and so it shall be for all eternity

    Most humble, and thankful, I have served but by this
    I have learned, I was strapped to the plaugh
    And the irony of the reward I had yet to achieve
    Was to be mowed down by the scythe!
    Now I see; the knife I hold is not meant for me
    The damage you tried to escape wasd already done!

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