Fresh line in the play.
What’s the latest trend we’re meant to obey?
Cause violent delights are wed in time.
And no one left is out of line.
Too much in with little free.
Wrap the blister and let it be.
From here in the womb.
I have to say it feels like a tomb.
Punctuate and lets cuts down the crime.
Moments of disbelief are rhyme.
Butchers hook with no saviour.
Twisted by denial behaviour.
Insert the crazy.
Won’t you look and see that its hazy?
Wearing souls dispossessed from in the mine.
Deicide granted by a whine.
Sown shut from all the torture.
Breed a realm of pure disorder.
Rust is seeping in.
All the mirror shows is living sin.