Feral Birth - Necropo.lys

And it chars my heart not to be now with thee
The East Horde is coming to conquer the West
The best I may choose might hasten the release
But I will not be putting my anger to rest

And here, with my beard- with my all damaged hair
Just heir to the throne
Been stripped to the bone
I rise from the deep to avenge the lost Chair
From our lair to their snares, let us in
Marble stairs

For
I love
Thee

For
Thee
I'll kill

This is
To ease

Thine
And my
Pain
Five. Sex. Seven. Hate

A golden Reich of wrongs and rights
Once at its heights of plenitude
Now fallen for, spilt up, broke down
To vilifying servitude

A gifted heart, master of arts
Not yesterday the head of kings
Today but a grave slave to a doom
Too soon swooped upon to ravish bold wings

A wet-hot realm amongst the seams
Of teenage dreams; the poetry
Of silken webs and nylon threads
Weaving their way to Arcady

Twain daring hearts, like Pete's and Carl's
For ever bound together, now
In the pay of their pain, separation and loss
Yet still the glossa of love, as above so below

Licking sour, bitter wounds
Will speak for all

The enemy's descended
Upon us like the Beast
Commissions are to be mended
Now the needle points the East

The time hath come, undone I rave and rove about the grove
Of hope impaired- I choke and reel from suffocated love

The knife has been already
Twisted and the die is cast
I must not let their steady
Penetration venture past

The last stronghold of defence and defiance; shall I be
Half-frozen, staring at their foul conqueror's revelry

No

The golden Reich, bereft of rights
Prepares to face the longest night

The enemy, deceiver
Might've torn the bridal cover
But they will not quench the fever
That's made us betrothed lovers

My bet is set; I know I'll get their standard back to where
It doth belong: a cloth among swine squirting in their fucking
Lair

The likely lovers, rolled it over
Prepare to meet again

I slay the conqueror, cruel, and drink of his blood
I laid siege to their siege; fuelled, now herald the flood
Of sweet tears, for my dear love is near- in a day
All our nights shall be restored and the fear swept away

I prey on their triumph just to celebrate their loss
I raise the eastern flag amidst the vast meadows of moss
And toss it, while I scorn 'em, so to exorcise, in bliss
Their nasty ghost- let's make a toast, a-waiting for her kiss

For
I love
Thee

For
Me
Thou killedest

This was
My post

Mine is thine
Four. Five. Six. Heaven. Eight

The golden Reich, regained their might
Thrived on their rulers' fortitude
Built-up again- forevermore free
To enjoy grandeur and plenitude

The parted hearts, conjoined at last
Took pleasure in their own beat's glow
But, noblesse oblige, they were now in league
With something more than before- as above so below

Licking sour, bitter wounds
Love spake for all

Written by:
Edoardo Peterlin, Massimilano Morelli

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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