My malice wings stalk in declaration of your bite.
And in their heat they shall disarm your guns.
I\'ll face the consequence of trust and honor were a part of your catalog.
I suppose some stars are meant to burn black, and turn
into hell.
But mine forever runs white.
Time may tell this tale.
In this nightmare blood.
I\'ll drink your cup of hate
if you share your rather ordinary story
of all your loss.
I suppose triggering my heart that doesn\'t beat is
the same penance as yours when it comes
to hate, and revenge.
I\'ll splinter to you, if that makes you
more or less of what you do unto
others.
What you do unto one another.
In my faith I believe but the cracks
in the book don\'t mark history.
I could easily be a monk among the
thieves that are worshiped by the fool!
But I\'ll fly by my vanguard.
And sit among the books of the valor ones.
My half-breed children are not born from scorn
but from the dark side of the moon.
I\'ll escape in my confidence of the last thorn was my own.
The utopia was the thistle in the rose.
And serenity and serendipity took the world at storm and agape the dreams of
the lost children of the crypt closed.
Her valor was the stake she follow
through with her
own half spite.
His heart heavy
as heaven reach
can you help lock
up all the secrets here?
My world is not as plain as can be,
underneath all you see is a truth
you can only discover if you
fall deep and hard into voids
within voids. And catch the space
between space between.
My nightmare blood can only....
spell a thousand stories
bent in her
after image.