Primordial Bitter Harvest
A moment of clarity It spoke to me in tongues It spoke to me of ruin Of destitution, and of pain Where night, it never ever Seems to come To ease the misery of the day Degenerate whores Expose their stinking wares to a foul race of man... whores for all..., in time Death soon shall bind These soul less froms of men To the dead of their kind To live all their lives again They would die in the very Same way... Clinging to a profane hope that A place beyond the grave May repay their suffering And their pain In a way that no whore could ever ease The misery of the day...
