Wrath of the Ancient Spirits
Funeral Fog
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Tonight is the night
The city sweats fever, the filth in her womb
Shifts like the season's unease at the hands of doom
Restless inside
Her split underbelly
Suitored with flies
Martial bowels now contract
I am nemesis
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Poured in my arms
When my daughter's eyelids closed
I swore to slaughter those
Who stole my ray of moonlight
Never again
Our enemies entertained
I toy at the clasp of her chain
And remember the fight!