Resurrection 9
by Burn the Priest· from Self-Titled
Lay waste torn asunder weak and lost in the past. Obfuscates the self mind, ripped it away. Cobwebs and motes in the eye of a sun god. I think not, serpent get thee behind me. Eradicated your somnambulant enigma. This field has lainfallow, won't erode, won't soak up the sediment from your poisoned mind. No, I won't soak up your misery, won't soak up your weakness, won't soak up your banality. Taste vanadium, wide awake realizing what you've done. Taste the frost, you'vbe chose your own death you know that you chose well. I hate myself but not as much as I hate you. Tear yourself down.