The two-step of a cardboard evangelist
Encapsulated by the pumping of 12 thousand fists
Amidst the dreary iron curtains draped from the sky
Releasing droplets of "oh, when God cries"
Spotlight for a daemon jester, juggling fates and souls
The glimmer of anti-god meets his corneas,
Yea..not a fucking one of those peons know.
A snicker
A grin
Malevolant minister, preaching falsified things
A cackle
A scream
Flame flickered sermons, clip away angel wings.
Wolf teeth are bared, and the myth unfolds
Absorbed by false pretenses, every single soul grows cold
Slowly..dripping..out..of..the...physical..realm
Driven..deeper..into..solitude..with..this..miscre ant..at..the..helm.
Sent by satan, and humanities fate is locked
When agony pierces out of his mouth, like a pandora's box
Zealots created, benevolant dreams creamated
An army of hell-mongers crusading against what God created.
Built by false hopes, instilled pandemic of the pandora box
Stabbing the blood-soaked cross down where people talk
Until blood and brimstone gurgle up
And your larynx and voicebox become stuck
And you're forced to become another zealot
And every sacred journey you've dreamed will be for naught,
when you're just another piece of jewelry, in Pandora's box.
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
The clock of fate is winding down
And you can't do....
...nooothing...aboooouuutttt it.
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