Melankoly Through Sickness
Sickness that will never heal
Sickness that all do fear
Sickness that haunts forever
Sickness that will surely kill
Through sickness, fragrant rose
All the ones you hold close
Through sickness, lust, passion
Through sickness all is lost
Pen that writes, the pen that bleeds
Most atrocious crimson seas, upon much darker memories
Your death was pointless, blood is advertised
Bread sold to the homeless
Purity raped from what’s divine
Sickness like possession deep in the crossings of your
soul
There is no savior
When it comes to invert your purest thoughts
Recall all their convictions, fire to the crafts
Myth is all that’s sacred
Letters from an illusional past
Pen that writes, the pen that bleeds
Most atrocious crimson seas upon much darker memories
