Sick Mind's Cypher

[Dearg]

It's a beautiful mixture of funeral scriptures,
trapped in lyrical fixtures, I'm a cynical drifter.
Carving kidney stones from empty souls...
got me fifty bones beneath a filthy throne.
Blood on my crown, love must've drowned,
unholy ground covered by guns unbound.
I'm temptation, sedation, impatience,
relations deflated, desperation degraded.
The plague feeding on your children,
and the faith receding from their spirit.
The voice envisioned by a rapist,
and each noise his victim had prayed with.
The screams of a child being beaten
as he thinks in denial, believing in reason.
I'm the twisted and the obscene,
the wishes uncleaned, livid and unseen.
Demented and reprieved, cemented in concrete,
revisit red sheets with intentions to repeat.
Murder!