This falsity is impounded,
compressed upon the surface,
Its life spills out,
Stains my stagger,
My purpose.
You seem to spin glee as I stumble on.
What corpse am I seeing in this stall?
Did they drag him to you like this?
Coax him with untold myths?
I finally see your face, painted like blight.
An abode is tainted within your knife.
Each shadow is boxed and ironed out on the anvil,
Each corner is locked and scrying where leads the handle,
Each frozen ember is perculating from those bastard's walls.
The archaic December is composing the Fall.
It's so cold moving towards the flickering exit light,
The folds of walls smoothening to foretell the trick of night.
I know that door is not the way out
But this knife has been quenched,
Sliced on the floor in a single route.
It ends in his descent.
Are you as the raven promised? Among the mountains?
Staring at the eyes of Thanatos?
Nevermore shall each trawling limb screech,
Composure thralls the scalding ichor deep
Within this blood glazed corridor.
Cast my arms alight!
Push these shadows apart.
Nevermore!
supported by 19 fans who also own โBlood Glazed Corridorsโ
I do not usually buy compilation albums but this is for a great cause and the immense amount of talent featured here makes for an incredible and varied listening experience,while also turning me on too some excellent bands I had never heard before.
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