Terror sought in the faintest smell of blood,
I am deacon of the catastrophic night in.
Flickering lights and musty growth on
Old plates,
Dried beer stained into the table
The season grows cold and weird memories
Rise to the top of the symphonic ceiling,
Staining that too.
If I dont **** soon I fear I might write an opus
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 6:47 PM UTC
Terror sought in the faintest smell of blood,
I am deacon of the catastrophic night in.
Flickering lights and musty growth on
Old plates,
Dried beer stained into the table
The season grows cold and weird memories
Rise to the top of the symphonic ceiling,
Staining that too.
If I dont **** soon I fear I might write an opus
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