Qlipoth


Take thy pick and dig thy grave,
All sense dies in the life of a slave
Nonsense thrives, they cannot save themselves
From the death wish

At the point of no return,
Where flawless, frozen images burn,
Their tourtured souls still weep and yearn for release,
From the beast,
For everlasting peace

Hell awaits thee in Heaven too late,
Locked out of time at the pearly gate
With naught but a sliver of a twist of fate,
Thy fractured heart
And the death wish

Past the point of no return,
Where flawless, forzen images burn,
Their tortued souls still weep and yearn for release
Form the beast,
For everlsating peace
And the key,
And the key to paradise







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