You can now rise upon the backs of the dead!
The eyes of the suffering are goggles
Red and shining through the fog
Their backs are broken by wooden poles
Their chests are ripped by bullet holes
The eyes of the suffering are needles
Green and glowing in the water
Their back-bones are laced with poison
Their lives were met with a choice end
The eye of the suffering is a flashlight
White and beaming in the libraries
Their chests protruding MP5’s
They drag their blood for all their lives
The eyes of the suffering are missing
The brain is all that remains
Their backs carry all kinds of firearms
Their legs are 8, littered with scars
The eyes of the suffering are dog’s
The face is that of a corpse
Their stomachs are full from the slaves
Their home is upon the graves
The eyes of the suffering are burning
Their bodies are attached by the hip
They throw their fire through the halls
They stand six feet four inches tall
The head of the suffering is severed
From all the torture it’s endeavored
It’s arms are blades of rusted steel
They’ve no more love to feel
The eyes of the suffering are starving
Their teeth are seven inch nails
Their jaws are gnashing and skin peels
Their arms are stretched for a meal
The King of The Suffering is The Worm.
His Hate fuels The Suffering on His terms.
He runs through The City of Dead Dreams.
He towers above the tallest buildings.
Aug 10, 2010
Aug 10, 2010 at 11:40 AM UTC
You can now rise upon the backs of the dead!
The eyes of the suffering are goggles
Red and shining through the fog
Their backs are broken by wooden poles
Their chests are ripped by bullet holes
The eyes of the suffering are needles
Green and glowing in the water
Their back-bones are laced with poison
Their lives were met with a choice end
The eye of the suffering is a flashlight
White and beaming in the libraries
Their chests protruding MP5’s
They drag their blood for all their lives
The eyes of the suffering are missing
The brain is all that remains
Their backs carry all kinds of firearms
Their legs are 8, littered with scars
The eyes of the suffering are dog’s
The face is that of a corpse
Their stomachs are full from the slaves
Their home is upon the graves
The eyes of the suffering are burning
Their bodies are attached by the hip
They throw their fire through the halls
They stand six feet four inches tall
The head of the suffering is severed
From all the torture it’s endeavored
It’s arms are blades of rusted steel
They’ve no more love to feel
The eyes of the suffering are starving
Their teeth are seven inch nails
Their jaws are gnashing and skin peels
Their arms are stretched for a meal
The King of The Suffering is The Worm.
His Hate fuels The Suffering on His terms.
He runs through The City of Dead Dreams.
He towers above the tallest buildings.
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