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Warloghe
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Corpse-Altar-Light
In the abysmal mirror image from below The four armed daemon two of it's hands straining to reach the stars a pair of swords diagonally in the other two
Dark steel rides the fleshy canvas (of the corpse)
The soon to be sun inside his dead eyes The moon inside his cranium
The microcosm Around me Spilt on the floor
In front of me His body bent grotesquely 更多更详尽歌词 在 ※ Mojim.com 魔镜歌词网 To form the holiest of shrines In his eye sockets now the eternal fire burns His foul, twisted mouth sings hymnals of praise Carved sigils feed on his soul
Upon his heavenly carcass We smear our saliva Its wounds serve as resting places For our ensnaring tongues And his veins as our vessels For we shall never feel drought, Nor hunger, or anything else As long as this altar pulsates with HIS light!
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