Svarttjern Desolate Predictions
Possessed from the first wicked, so few climb beyond
what's mortal.
Distance prayers show distance dreams. Why count, you
bury all.
Will sense show for you the next.
Time cracks limbs of understanding.
Why count, you bury all.
Force out you.
Pity vomit will.
Cast you as a plague.
Female moans, come to me.
In all distance glory, fire shall revile.
For a moving body, a guided soul.
Yes. I'm inside. Will you ever forget.
Holy sensation, your sweet connection.
Receives it all.
I force on you my demon power.
