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letra de i: idyll anathema - potmos hetoimos

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[m]
hear me speak, i call from the streets
in lonesome heat, i writhe in the sheets
with silver tongue and siren call
i beckon flesh become my thrall

[w]
she was beautiful, once
when everything was
she has fallen away
the downward spiral
she was perfect, once
when everything was
she’s become something less
unrecognizable

[a]
the taste lingers forever
a day without her is a thousand
a singular drive to fill a singularity;
the vacuum craves all and holds none
collapse and consume; construct and confess

[w]
a blasphemy of her former self
twisted and contorted by shameless hands
degraded and raped
i’ve got my finger on the pulse
and beauty is dying

[a]
forget every face;
they aren’t meant for memory
grand deconstruction of glorious design

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