Every Fibre.Mature

These were never vessels,
Vessels to be filled
It doesn't matter anymore
He never had a chance.

Stand and receive your judgement
Not one year, and he choked on the blood in his lungs.

Are you happy now?
You make me retch
Fall to the dirt.
Slit your own throat, and writhe in the mud

Yet you dare let your sickness lash out?
I'll be happy when you die.
When the fires of Hell lick at your feet, maybe your Heart of ice will start to melt

Or maybe Hell will be his face.

Hell will be his face.

As he bled, you'll be bound
You'll gain no respect, but disgust and fear

The scum of society will look upon you and spit
For what you've done, they will never forgive.



The End

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