Song about how I sold my bitch ass soul to Lucifer. Greed charms the wretched concept of spilling your bodies blood, the demons draw in closer every time the flesh is cut. Obsolescent are the forces that govern the Earth. You should have known that nothing exists in the form we see but as a phantom in which we transform to perceive the way we like it. Drop your knees to the floor, My hedonistic nature wont be tempered… Not by the honorable intent nor your dominion, heathen… Ill never transition as one should, not without seeking somber and tranquil closure. Minds transform. Our heroes die. Cycles erase all forms of life. Eyes are transparent. I wont stop bleeding. Lies will resurface. I breath transformation.
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