Purging of the breathless

by Seth M Chrisman
(Nebraska, USA)

I see the tears run bitter, hollow down these grief stricken faces,
Trembling with fear, from an entity in which its name they dare not speak.
Hiding from a castigation, that they think and know will be the end of thee,
And yet they still wait too be broken from these wicked chains of mental suffering.

Little do they know their repentance will go unrevealed.
That the unearthing of a heart so black, will surly stop the beat.
The laceration of the wounds that will never know to heal,
Is enough to finally, admittedly destroy a love that would never be.

He did nothing to help you revive a life that no longer lives, so let him die with every ounce of discontent.
A bleeding hypocrite that falsifies, to neutralize! So let the purging of the breathless now commence.
The hands of forgiveness are sickened, they've witnessed, a horror that slowly eats away their life,
Petrified that so much greed could take away, destroy the Frey, could painfully and viciously overturn their minds.
Never was it a single thought that this could ever happen, but by god it surely did.
So burn, (purge), burn, (purge), burn, and (purge)! The resurrecting spirits of the dead!

Chorus 1:
Blood of the hopeless entrails down the path of great unspoken thoughts!
A bribe for the ferryman and he may let you walk this road unsought.
The intention of your waling spirit, is something that you cannot define!
And the tribulation, the subjugation, the words that beseech your soul, is nothing but benign.

Creatures of the woods, they creek and move!
When it takes away your life, septic thoughts intrude.
Everywhere you turn, they lurk and wait.
The eclipse of love and death is the outline of your fate!

Endless time, will consume you slowly from the inside out!
Stricken life, will continue! A reign of judgment will forever cloud your doubts.
Do not create something that you yourself cannot bear to kill,
Leave no truth left unspoken, and let the lies from your rendering mouth be spilled.

Twisting and turning, I divulge the monsters crawling beneath my skin.
The world of exoneration and impunity is a forsaken place I have never been.

Chorus 2:
Blood of the hopeless entrails down the path of great unspoken thoughts!
A bribe for the ferryman and he may let you walk this road unsought.
The intention of your waling spirit, is something that you cannot define!
And the tribulation, the subjugation, the words that beseech your soul, is nothing but benign.

I see the tears run down the bitter hollow grief stricken faces,
Trembling with fear, from an entity in which its name they dare not speak.
I, provoking agonist.
His forgery to their words, my reasons of great intent.
Behead the monster of deceit!
The god of which they do not speak.

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