as woven were the threads and attire spunned
called upon the writhing tongue
called upon the writhing tongue
thy blasphemous philanderer notions of love.
In the temple of madness and wine
where toxication could not hold to hear
the cries of life in gentler sways
gave life a morn to kiss in the death's castle of mis-matched broods.
And my heart had drunk alot
not too much or quantity stiff
only to satisfy the calling thirst
to the necrophillic death that was wide awake..."
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