Silenced Morbid Dream
Thoughts Nothing
is as
It Seems
Sugar coated are the secrets which lay beyond this
idealism and unreal prosperity
Overwhelmingly mad visions and tragedy forewarns
are all our most sanctified prophets seem to see
Stretching out pseudo salvation for you, a personalized
guardian angel now scorching his blessed flesh
and bone within the eye of hell
Even he wishes solemnly, that you would never have
second guessed this ancient magi’s
strength and freedom with his horrid spell
Sacred ones, of ages ago, warned you of the fate
guaranteed to those who choose to walk into this
trap of deception, this never-ending abyss
Laughing deities seem to mock your every move as
you are devoured by the blackness of blessed
Hecate’s sweetest devastation, her vampyric kiss
-antidotes shan’t stop what kills so sweet and slow-
Where is the god whom promised salvation to you,
the one who spoke through the words of
divinity’s son, through the chosen one’s voice
Never did you believe the golden ones, three
fold faits who hissed through snake-like hair,
of you becoming blinded each tome you make a choice
I have seen ones like you, with wings so fresh, so
new and spreading wide their feathers to
reveal purity in the shade of Gaia’s palest blue
Creations of the wretched one, first tattering your
flawless and untouched wings, then tinting
your heart a true satanic hue
One final damnation, for you alone, is hidden
behind Loki’s mirror of all those who chant
endless cries and starve the lonely with bloodshot eyes
Before I fill this flask by draining the last of
my few crimson tears, in an attempt to save
you from your six-foot, ready grave, you must
learn so fast to amplify your very own silent cries
-antidotes shan’t stop what kills so sweet and slow-
Ways of how you once escaped, those paths of
fantasy which have been assumed true,
engraved in stone, memorized and past down through time
Never did these paths apply to your kind which have
always passed this foolish wisdom down,
their once pure and holy bloodline
Truth now and forever, may be found within the
Very dreams and memories recorded by
patterns in every ryhme
Try for thee, the known one whom poisoned you, and
look past his horrid mask, for you shall
find his every intention being genuinely
true, just as death’s love for you
Nymphs of many have tried to lay this rite’s
only path for you to follow, by lunar
light, finding in life’s labyrinth, what is
hidden for you in a morning’s dew
Lies upon lies have burned their eternal
mark deep into magick’s root, in you,
into the core of your inner soul, this is
why devastation crawls beneath your
own fake skin
For the sakes of all other damned ones to
come, just as you have, escaped this tainted
churning and inner burning that slowly
decays you blindly with dreadfully
unspeakably , such horrid
unforgivable sin
Realize
for all our souls
No scrolls written in crimson tears
shall heal all these bleeding holes
Realize
for the ones who’s dreams still
chance of becoming true
No pagan nor spirit may mimic
the heavenly tenderness produced
so flawlessly by you
Realize
for your own future that still
reflects the moonlight’s glow
That no cure, no antidote may
stop this plague of pain that
kills so very silently and at a
horridly flow, so viciously,
dead silently and painstakingly
slow
is as
It Seems
Sugar coated are the secrets which lay beyond this
idealism and unreal prosperity
Overwhelmingly mad visions and tragedy forewarns
are all our most sanctified prophets seem to see
Stretching out pseudo salvation for you, a personalized
guardian angel now scorching his blessed flesh
and bone within the eye of hell
Even he wishes solemnly, that you would never have
second guessed this ancient magi’s
strength and freedom with his horrid spell
Sacred ones, of ages ago, warned you of the fate
guaranteed to those who choose to walk into this
trap of deception, this never-ending abyss
Laughing deities seem to mock your every move as
you are devoured by the blackness of blessed
Hecate’s sweetest devastation, her vampyric kiss
-antidotes shan’t stop what kills so sweet and slow-
Where is the god whom promised salvation to you,
the one who spoke through the words of
divinity’s son, through the chosen one’s voice
Never did you believe the golden ones, three
fold faits who hissed through snake-like hair,
of you becoming blinded each tome you make a choice
I have seen ones like you, with wings so fresh, so
new and spreading wide their feathers to
reveal purity in the shade of Gaia’s palest blue
Creations of the wretched one, first tattering your
flawless and untouched wings, then tinting
your heart a true satanic hue
One final damnation, for you alone, is hidden
behind Loki’s mirror of all those who chant
endless cries and starve the lonely with bloodshot eyes
Before I fill this flask by draining the last of
my few crimson tears, in an attempt to save
you from your six-foot, ready grave, you must
learn so fast to amplify your very own silent cries
-antidotes shan’t stop what kills so sweet and slow-
Ways of how you once escaped, those paths of
fantasy which have been assumed true,
engraved in stone, memorized and past down through time
Never did these paths apply to your kind which have
always passed this foolish wisdom down,
their once pure and holy bloodline
Truth now and forever, may be found within the
Very dreams and memories recorded by
patterns in every ryhme
Try for thee, the known one whom poisoned you, and
look past his horrid mask, for you shall
find his every intention being genuinely
true, just as death’s love for you
Nymphs of many have tried to lay this rite’s
only path for you to follow, by lunar
light, finding in life’s labyrinth, what is
hidden for you in a morning’s dew
Lies upon lies have burned their eternal
mark deep into magick’s root, in you,
into the core of your inner soul, this is
why devastation crawls beneath your
own fake skin
For the sakes of all other damned ones to
come, just as you have, escaped this tainted
churning and inner burning that slowly
decays you blindly with dreadfully
unspeakably , such horrid
unforgivable sin
Realize
for all our souls
No scrolls written in crimson tears
shall heal all these bleeding holes
Realize
for the ones who’s dreams still
chance of becoming true
No pagan nor spirit may mimic
the heavenly tenderness produced
so flawlessly by you
Realize
for your own future that still
reflects the moonlight’s glow
That no cure, no antidote may
stop this plague of pain that
kills so very silently and at a
horridly flow, so viciously,
dead silently and painstakingly
slow