Bleed for the maggot inside them He is their lie He is breathless bestial enchantment They are the walking prison of angels Shall they continue to seek pa**age to a modern life? Shall they continue to speak until one of us lacerates their wings? We are the indigo beast An anamorphic calibration of black magick Light ingested, night desensitized
He is sentimental waste In the middle of a wasted century He is the sentimental wasteland Obsolete foundation His invasion will awaken To release their sacred secret light Dream to dismember his lies So they can seek Heaven The sacred seat of never Shall they continue to seek pa**age to a modern life?