And as the black wake opens The rage pours out in streams The dark, dark cataclysm of anguished souls Stroll forth propelling their prophecies through The mists (of time) The mists, which cloud mens' minds And fog their inspirations and aspirations And drive their ambitions to their terrible conclusions Twisted and distorted is their nature Dark and hateful is form These loathsome beings And grim creatures Stealing the sympathies And perverting the cultures Until they meet their dark, pathetic needs Unto the void they go, from whence they came From nothing they begun, nothing but a single speck To nothing they will go Like a cold flower waiting to bloom, So it can wither and die Borne out of love, their creation started. They seem to be an abomination Subverting, contorting the life they crave But they carry out the subconcious will of the master Little does he realise his true intentions. His dark meaning. Dressed like an angel he comes Beckoning and welcoming, embracing all But underneath is rancid, insidious reason Corrupted youth and dead life Wasted and Wasting On the brink of destruction.....
And these dark secluded beings are only fools and slaves And their awful masters' name, He is called it everyday but rarely answers, Love......(simply love).
by Shred | |||
