Pavor Nocturnus
Oak Pantheon
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A plague of the mind
Phantom glares
The night is young
Can’t escape this hell
I can’t walk
I can’t crawl
I mean nothing
I am nothing
Unable to move
Shadows with disfigured faces
Limbs thrash
A cadaverous shriek
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A blight on the soul
Spirits swarm
Apparition dissolves
The visions are dead
A life filled with regrets
An awful burden for such a weak soul
I can’t move
It’s all just in our heads
Even if this sorrow overwhelms
I must move
Slash at their flesh, rip off their limbs, crush all their bones
This world is not real
Burn off their skin, slice through their skulls, harvest their souls
This world is not real