Oh, it's a business.
One free of paying taxes.
Which is why you finding many professing to be ministers?

Invited ministers leave with a bankroll.
And do great in that role of spreading the word.

Telling you what they know?
And of course what they heard from the lord?
And God theme push the money requested.

Many start off requesting a hundred?
And twist scriptures to suit the event occurring.
You have not, because you ask not?

Sewing of seed means you gonna bleed losing more green.

Yes, some minsters only in it to scheme like a false prophet.
Upset when you state they playing with the word.

Prideful wings
Are soaring higher
As the Saints
Are falling under
Desperation has turned the angels
Into monsters

Don't speak
To the voices of the fallen
They will lead you astray
Don't gaze
Upon the wings of the ascended
For the light will bring pain

They're calling out
Across the rotting harvest
Collecting souls
Of the starving hopeless
Dust and ashes
Of dying kingdoms
Scattered by the wings of angels
Devoured by the teeth of martyrs

Plague comes
Upon the winds of our destruction
At the end of our days
Creatures
That used to be the angels
Through the dark they pervade

In the grip of despondency
One can only see enemies

Prideful wings
Of burning ether
Resurrect
The countless horrors
As the monsters
Consume the hours
Our fallen Saints
Are becoming vultures
And the sun, it sinks
Into the final twilight...

We are all stitches in the cloth
                           of the universe,
each a moment holding
        the past & future together.

For without these
                   overlapping occasions
we would become frayed.
Undone not learning from one another.

But we are but one stitch among the
                    many colours that are
woven as far as the eye can see.
            patches that collected together.

Caught in this place of disgrace and a bleak depression
Mental corridors behold a disease
As you are filling your guts with what will lead to your own abominations
You are wallowing in regret and defeat
Forever ripped by the claws of the desolation
An addiction is what you must feed
But to condemn yourself to a life of utter loneliness and starvation
You, a victim of your unfathomable greed

**** the king
For he is the source of your heartless deceit
He will **** for you, and he wants your pain
The king is the monstrosity that you have to feel
King is your greed

Tears flow from you
And blood from me like a river
I have given what you'll never give me
Thus you have made me a sinner
As I am no longer a forgiver
I desire to bury you beneath

So I will **** the king
For the atrocities that were ****** unto me
I gave it all to you, and you caused me pain
But merely a fraction of what you deserve to feel
Gods **** the king

"The words of a beggar are those of despondency , the words of an addict are those of desperation, and the words of a liar are those of destruction "

Cursed and shallow
You will live your life as nothing
Hail
Hail
Misfortune, for your suffering.

Awake
A black sun rises
Stretching its limbs across the wastes
The ruins are vibrant
The landscape is violent
The creatures that once were human...

Now breathe
Their progeny
Countless lives were lost
When the sky fell into the sea
A million voices curse the world
That came to be

Asleep
The blood moon rises
Shining its light to drown the stars
The night sky is vacant
The monster awakened...

And he feeds, as he's freed
Devour all life from the sky to the sea
For taking from a dying world
As she bleeds
This is how the human race will cease to be...

The morbidity of life is exhumed
everyday of our awaking breath.
For when will this ceaseless existence
grant upon my eyes the closure,
that will vindicate that its fully proven.

Will I ever be a portrait of death,
hanging silently beyond my view.
But alas I still sense the ambiance
of every pilgrimage. This cradle
that I need to decline into oblivion.

I never asked to be exhumed from
the ruination of silence. I was embedded
beyond peace, but then entombed
within this mortal coil,
collecting more pain than ever in death.

When the wolf saw the sheep
             the sheep asked why me,
why not those over there.

The wolf replied I have no need
          of explanation for your worries,
they are short lived as is your breath.

The sheep asked again as the wolfs
         teeth caressed it throat,
Loosing gently it replied.

*"Death is a petal on a flower of life,
               and yours has fallen to me,