Friday, March 31, 2006

 

Deafening

Silence greets us
Strapped to a chair of nails
No cover from the rain
Infested by rabid snails

On truth we prosper
In lies we are whole
No room for forgiveness
We are now Satan's tool

Bloodshed on the cabinet
Don't let it touch the food
Overflowing and paralyzing
Awake, my child, death is coming...

Comments:
Sweet!
 
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