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!
