Altar Of Plagues
Burnt Year
Beating bright and in the eye, the isles of the body they turn.They are shaped by the flood, the onset of a blindness.Leeched, and wearied, unfolding somewhere else.It is gone and the body is stood blind.Back through, a dirge, a remedy and a fever.Borders sketched without song.A child was buried here.Here, my son was buried.And God danced around the coffin.and we danced with your God.and I watched my mothers body, raped by a prophet.I watched my son die.
From Letras Mania