Bloodish red, the color of those empty skies, a thousand times ill say nothing else in this flesh, will remain asphixiation, when the green of this surface turns to black suffocation.
I love her perfumed corpse, my dead cold fingers (blackened attempt), grab those roots to pull out the darkest demons.
Beautiful attempt, through the horrors we march, we march and we claim for this purification.
A thousand black roses buried in the humanity's grave, a thousand black roses buried in the humanity's grave.
Your fucking flesh is gonna be mine.
We claim for this purification.