The skethertyne bullet into ghosts and darkly knights...

This is the usual sell, senses, a zecher deniably so.

Waning hues of free life justify the hate, which cries alight.
Funk dusty double tone shelves/ funky trace  rounds of grace ensight-
Who shall call? Who shall hear?
What can I believe? Fear is the right.
Edifice; sense feelings fear and senses, aerial winding admiral Piett.

Watch oh' soul  the lavers... the freak real wrought iron, humbled's and stows....

Drench the ghastly hope with all  en masse & bludgeoning fights.
And now the duty evanescence feaks/ the fickle on mirror/more omitted doors/ and as so... the godly shows!The killer's rites!