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letra de exile - ovid's withering

curiosity consumes the m-sses, and the mad king augustus proselytizes
those who dare cross his name
save the primitive touch of innocence
i will not falter in this
for i remained untouched by these earthly desires
the makers will retaliate both in life and undeath
deliverance from the conscious
banished to the black sea, detached from all of his society
“you’ll plea for death, death by virtuous hands.”

they have risen from the ashes of the throne
the tome of the necrogod
consecrating a symposium befouled
left in the hands of the fallen
“you’ll pay for this, betrayer! i grow tired of all of your blatant displays of blasphemy
i have given myself. i belong to the d-mned
exiled for eternity.”
exile

conceived in the threshold of transformation
ethereal algorithms eclipsed in prophecy

they have risen from the ashes of the throne
the tome of the necrogod
consecrating a symposium befouled
left in the hands of the fallen

“you’ll pay for this, betrayer! i grow tired of all of your blatant displays of blasphemy
i have given myself. i belong to the d-mned
exiled for eternity

let it be written in this p-ssage of lore
for all of these wretched children, all these wretched wh0r-s
a maniacal wasteland lay before him
to ignore disease is to be consumed
to be naive is to entice war.”

it begins

slowly i crept in – their black tongues fl!ckering betwixt their blistered skin
a most unbiblical chord…all by the grace of the serpent-lord

“i stand upon the husks of dead heroes to unearth the tome of the necrogod, and now the visions are clear! we murder to dissect.”

- ovids withering

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