I'm the scenery of vendetta
Mind and soul
I'm the shapeless victory
Order and suppression
All in the tower of the virgin
Triumphant in a pale gray light
In despire of how to deal with it
A sweet turbulent intoxication
Rapidly I yearn to bare the mark
In a tragic understatement of the lions force
A tribe who's independence is no longer
Disturbed by the ragged interception of happy thorns
As I face the whispering
I answer to the master
A biochemical trembling
Voices in my head
And thus I appear with wakeful eyes
Trust insight
A tedious dramatic implant
Like swollen iron feeds itself
Longing for the moon
Longing for the moon
Unbreakable and unborn
Sifting the contents of the surface
A ceremony of killers
A scorched fucking snale
In postures of gold
That might be recognized
But as long as there are shelters
You'll always find yourself detained
A huge defenseless atmosphere
Wretched and toiled for centuries
Is ever so tender as long as we're alive
For it is with great wealth that I
declare this
Flapping wings
tired monster
Ruthless in folly frames
Attempting gaiety upon sinister forces
All within we will win
All within we will win