This is not some sort of zombie literature without a metaphor behind it. If you don't understand the metaphor behind this, then you're already one of them. Keep that in mind before judging my work. This is merely a collection of band names set in place where I saw fit at 4 in the morning. Insomnia is a writer's best friend. There are seldom any rhymes as well, close this page if you were looking for any.
A society told what to Do, Make, Say, Think,
Forever worshiping a Machinemade God.
Esoteric knowledge is frowned upon and shackled by time,
therefore our Wisdom In Chains lies dormant Within the Ruins.
Since the Flood, human nature is a Shipwreck at the floor of The Ocean.
As the Sun Sets, we are slowly Awaiting the End.
After the Burial, there is nothing left Between the Buried and Me but soft soil.
Bring on The Faceless Winds of Plague, for there will soon be an End to Flesh.
With Dead Hands Rising, those alive fight to survive
Bodies will Unearth themselves, Becoming the Archetype.
A Cannibal Corpse at every doorstep, staring at you Through the Eyes of the Dead.
Left with nothing but the sound of their own Suicide Silence.
It Dies Today friends, have no Fear Before the March of Flames
Heaven Shall Burn as the First Blood is spilled. Terror. Full Blown Chaos.
In the Darkest Hour we will send up Misery Signals, to no avail. God Forbid.
Waking the Cadaver is easy when everyone is already living their days deceased.
Beneath the Sky lay A Fragile Line between Hell and Earth
Those who are left, remain Versus the Mirror.
I hope the Arsis of my voice will Bring Me the Horizon of a Brand New day.
Until then, we shall hold A Black Rose Burial for society's end.
The dead truly walk.
Misericordiam.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment