Xasthur
The Funeral Of Being
Sigils Made Of Flesh And Trees
Blood clotted sewage possessed my veins and mind.
Poisonous indulgence.
Suicidal voids filled with fragments of waste showers.
Dreaming a tormented memory to slash my throat.
Yet awakening in blood.
Vortex and scars on their mind.
To never forget the meaning of hate.
Resuscitate my dying breeze into the dreams of tangled living corpses behind sigils made of flesh and trees.
To drain you of your soul, falling to your knees.
Echo's calling through stillborn wombs.
Unknown evil & chaos is spawned.
Hypnotic tones from far away.
Bring abysmal wings reborn through death thus bring a new eternity.
Reflecting Hateful Energy
Red hopelessness impaled on rocks and trees.
Fallen from cliff's edges, a cursed exit from weakened mortality.
Servants sacrificing their flesh (for soon the soul will be gone).
In the name of nothingness, abduction of your will to live.
Rat-like minions seal the trapped circle and vacant spaces (of a living hell) filled with hate.
Saviour of ruin, obsessed with your decay.
Dying eyes like blood flooded tombs.
A vampiric Christ's hateful reflection.
By a red spell is cast into the deadest of all eyes, release the chains and slash your tr oath.
Eternal black winter left only hate in its never-ending grasp.
The killing shadows of all it was I never lived for.
Injecting hate into despondent minds possessing your decay.
Asphyxiate upon ghastly hidden fear.
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