Flames of Withering Justice
Engulf the demise of
Modern Society,
Gnawing at the blackened
Hearts of the universe.
Hearts exactly like mine,
Exactly like mine.
Rotting within the ecstacy
Of torment and stinging
Sensations.
The excitement never ends
With my game.
A game so sweet that it is sour
To demented estranged minds of
My building.
God.
I am God.
I control the world with my
Imagination.
Imagination.
Surreal, isn't it?
The imagination of a sick mind.
My mind.
My mind.
My mind is rotting with every
Blow of a joint,
A joint made of lies
And infection.
Infection that is withering me
Like a dried out rose on
A crusty tomb stone,
Forever forgotten.
My game is the game of a
Demon.
A dancing demon of fire.
Splitting my sanity of all I know,
But do I know anything?
My mind is telling me things,
Things that desingrate intelligence.
Save me from myself,
But not yet.
Hypnotik,
Magikal,
Deserving am I of
This morbid darkness
Which has rotten my brain.