Session 3

[Nigma]

I, to some, appear a mortal man but there's more to that, see
Its a ghastly thorn and bad deeds have borne this banshee
The rat-a-tat torment of tapping the door of the mansion
Absorbing the blackness of magic too pure to imagine
And lavish in the gorgeous advantages it bore in the pattern
Still performance in action advances the lore of a champion
The type of scorcher amassing panic from born again magic
Attack filling corner to corner with lava, straight Mordor the planet
Massacre the horrible plans of mankind's co-ordinal masters
After cadavers inanimately formless I bellow a chorus of laughter
Divorcing the matter, shatter the force of former coroner ashes
Blood and gore in my hand, squish a batch to pour on the canvas
Typin lines that form into gashes like backs hit with 400 lashes
My minds a sword or an axe in the hands of a Nord as he crashes to war
In the battle, I'm thwarting your plans using Morrowind tactics
Fact is I'm torn between a thirst for grey I claim is my worst of traits
I'm still ill as cursed plague, you pricks as sick as a cure for AIDs
Work the stage in berserker rage, have you drop quick as ticket purchase rates
In French immersion plays during the final curtain phase on its worst of days
And if you're not the men I speak and ya best ain't weak you'll send respect to me
Leave me blessed with feed that mention E drops flexes deep as inception sleep on it's seventh ZZZZZZZ's
The ending speech of Session 3