Charcoaled all over my face

Streaks of disgrace

His making sure that our ways will stay interlaced

‘Cause it isn’t mine

That hungry smile

His making sure that our ways will stay ever so vile

But in his riding of our ways we got double crossed

With the package came a conscience that wasn’t easily lost

Every bloody inch of self-gratification

Would be compensated by a bloody laceration

And in that time

Where was he now?

He had long fled when guilt surfaced and made us crawl

What we tore loose but seemingly couldn’t consume

As we were the knife as well as we were the wound

The life we’ve taken

The life we’ve lost

Castigation, I accept responsibility

As I am never what I expect myself to be

The distance between me and my acts of impurity

Are the outstreched lenghts of the burial grounds

It feeds on me

How can I be?

What am I without you….?

I hear him talk

I feel him walk

And who is speaking with such intimate knowledge of my thoughts?

A schism dressed in carnal relics is mounting the throne

By his feet a female figure washing grave clothes

The life we’ve taken

The life we’ve lost

With twisted pontificial pride he wears the tiara

He crowns himself whatever he sees fit, Malachaia

The distance between me and my acts of impurity

Are the outstreched lenghts of the burial grounds

It bleeds in me

How can I be?

What am I without…. you now?

Starled from daily trail, always unwilling and unprepared

I am witness to the sounding of the banshee’s wail

As a malevolent current that ices the air, ‘t is an indication of his drawing near

We meet at the burial grounds my shadow self and me

And everything has to yield to my compulsive leave

A frantic journey through a woodland of overthrown memorial stones

Through reverberating icy moans, takes me to our obelisk of (de)control

There I witness him all over the banshee, finished with her, he strides over to me

And demands

-to be- my face

And leaves me dreamwalker, ‘til one day he’ll be finally done with me