Rotting Christ Delusions
take me in a heavy sleep in adventures I've never seen in a dimension before death mentally lost always have been if none of us / return from death there is so a weaving to explain life in a place there is no life what I adore is lost behind all the figures feel like me how can I feel as pain does not exist here knowledge meets nothingness a lost dream, a psychotic feast if none of us / return from death there's so weaving to explain life in a place there is no life what I adore is lost behind I have no advice how I could it seems so cordial but in a way it's not delusions: lead my like delusions: name all my life with a picture of an empty heaven a clear distinction between death & joy
