Wrathage

Terra Limbo

Wrathage


Happy, happy execution, Misanthropy 
At the outer limits, cold hate storage floor 
AnNihil(N)ation, worthy a Painking that forged 
a vivid plague to resound it's right-wing shell 

So pure a hell, some rotting fuse extract 
Rage leads, onwards, cry out dead names 
From an onset lost, pleasures lead to pain 
By all means sane, my art is to grow, -alone 

Here, a desert glowing things 
Here, a well deep and dark 

Rotting fuse extract slime, the pain-remedy 
until I die, this is a confused mile 
Grey pillows, a planket soaked in clear water 
hardly a nightmare, so real 
Cold almost shallow, I'm full of vacant space 
Out there the devils lurk 

Here, a desert glowing things 
Here, a well deep and dark 
Here, the crippled wings flap 

Pain drippings, pure gold 
the thing is not to crawl, 
defy the source of rot 
Pain intelligence, the stench of this supreme 
My eyes with a twisted smile, high 
occupying this subterranean asylum, 
below soulsick, I rent my core 
for his horns 
Hell is golden, yeah!