At The Throne Of Judgment Discarnate By Design
For every casket contrived,
There was a life prepared for its abode,
But now the ground holds the living,
How shall this work?
In the ground,
Beneath the soil her feral will to live exceeds her,
As he realizes in this appalling pastime
She was nothing but a pawn.
A simple murmur amidst the dawn.
The dawn of being, a time for believing.
Oh how the night reminds me of my shadowed thoughts.
My malicious plot
Unveiling to me
What redemption I had previously lost.
For every casket contrived,
There was a life prepared for its abode,
But now the ground holds the living,
How shall this work?
A ghost she becomes,
Without a home she is bodiless and doomed.
In the ground,
Beneath the soil her feral will to live exceeds her,
As he realizes in this appalling pastime
She was nothing but a pawn.
Remind me?
Twisted lady, I hope your regret everything insincere,
As I hammer, try to cohere.
Your indifference is my motive to make you suffer;
I hope you enjoy this velvet cover.
You'll die just like all the ohters.
