Deadness arises from the smothering screams of sorrow.
Divulge, the stream of blood, drink from its mouth.
I am an arrow, piercing your heart, six gods and a curse.
Blasphemous my lambs, behold the mark of my saviour.
Leaving my thoughts, far from paradise.
The masses are losing life, a woeful sight.
Witness a culture of blood and gore, my lord beckoned from a folklore.
The time is now upon you and me,
death will set us free, death will now set us free.
© Aniket More