It's light as a feather, snaps right together, it's the one. It weathers the storm and the grimness of war, it's the one. It clears out the trenches with power and vengeance, it's the one.
Armed. No it was more than that, armed to the fucking teeth was possibly more apt a description, and the civilians this war surrounded played no real part apart from being there, which I suppose is a part in itself..
I'm a selfish fiend. Yeah and I lust for me. And I wanna see. The world coming to an end. . Some call it blasphemy, others treachery. But i've no, i've no pity.
It's an ideal as old as man itself, a value obscured, yet never deceased. A way of life that must go on, a knowledge that lives in the hearts of the chosen.
War is much more than a disagreement of thought and a battle born of strife. Where many will stand and many will fall while bystanders will question the point.
So terrified, yet so in control, adrenaline be thy saviour. Have I only seconds to live, merely moments to go? Adrenaline thy benefactor. Feeling the blood as it pulses and flows, adrenaline is thy master.
Shadenfreude. Remember me. Remember me through your life of misery. Remember me. Remember me through death and eternity. . Damage, joy. A continuum of grief and despair.
My victim's chosen the time is right. Ritual. Death like a mist engulfs you tonight. Ritual. The purest of hate unleashed upon thee. Ritual. Most sadistic traits of inhumanity.
Power, not participation, the wise rule the strong, the strong rule the weak and so on. Power, not participation, if we rule their thinking, our dominant quest can begin.
Paranoia filled his heart. It was the prophecy that stood to tear his world apart. The wise foresaw the birth of a son. Who would teach of a life beyond this mortal one.
Right now's the time to see those illusions you've conceived. The ones that furnish your dreams, it's time to suspend belief. For yes, I am the fucking way.
A blinding white light, like a cold white sun in the night. But there's nothing at all that's divine about the discharge of rounds. And as you crawl through the maelstrom of war.
...And you're bound to hell as all good sinners are. The reaper will take you he'll show you the path. Recanting your sins, no that won't get you far.
Plan A: Take, knife, cut deep. Plan B: Take gun, blow off your skull. . Hesitation wounds. No you couldn't follow through. . Plan C: Take rope place around your neck.
Yeah I know what you are. Just an icon for fools to succumb to. Yeah I know what you are. A false deity, imposter. Yeah I know what you are. Sacrificed by those you were sent to save.
For blood! For blood! For blood!. The legions file in. And the crowd, the crowd it roars. As the lion, the lion stalks. And Christians are thrown into the pit.
The earth it turns, and you're still no closer today. Your time flitters away until nothing remains. And as the encroaching darkness comes, what will your servitude bring?.
To gods of war. To gods of death. A sacrifice we offer you. Three black hearts. Who walk the earth. Your bidding is what we do. Collecting souls. For experiments.
Sometimes the simple sounds of suffering. Are enough. Sometimes the sweet sounds of suffering. Are more than enough. And sometimes enlightening those believers.
And as the blood trails down the sink you catch a glimpse. But it's surreal, you're not who you think, feel so detached. Just to your left, there in the tub, lays your helpless victim.