Ascension - Mors Principium Est

A certain kind of delusion

That even.

you can’t penetrate

A strangling cloud of deception

Envelops a jealous, empty being

A preacher, preying an the fragile

Blinded by self importance

Sowing infected seeds

Delivering an empty curse

Armed with a vile tongue

Spewing forth sweet blasphemy

Sacrificing loyalists

To feed a bitter soul

With wicked vows delivered

We stood steadfast and true

Embraced by fellow kindred

Slaughtered where we slept

Through our own ascension

Whilst clawing at our chests

A lasting peace restored

As we shed our rotting flesh