Who is this being?
Who in the world has created the swirling void in the frantic soiree?
Sunk in icy, only misery
The figure I feared in the shadows was real
What are we now?
A prisoner
in his flesh A sense of hopelessness
Round and round and round we spin Within the black and reds of sin
Now once I've been punished for my sins,
turns a lot of salt in my skin
Shrouded in blood and ash,
but it's never really me I'm the truth
I'm the swirling void,
the only to be freed from this desolation
Dead on
in the frantic soiree
Sunk in icy, only misery
The figure I feared in the shadows was real
To the excite of what I am,
rip my flesh apart,
my body,
peel the muscle from my bones,
set this to the sweat,
check the size,
suffocate the big and dumb
Round and round and round we spin Within the black and reds of sin
My sin,
my soul,
will I suffer more?
My sin,
my soul,
will I suffer more?
My sin,
my soul,
will I suffer more?
My sin,
my soul,
will I suffer more?
My sin,
my soul,
where I will suffer more?