Tales Of Dark - From Scarveiled Hearts

Through ambered eventides and dreamscapes waste Throat-cut memories writhe dissolving As the sacred sinners white washed hands Bless the earth with sonorous lies For words are the manacles of doctrinal hypocrisy Murderous instincts never silenced they hold So I rise above the grotesque industry of pain As I deny the grace of the divine foretold Midst rebellious angels I do now sleep Isolated from the grasp of the holy scorn So touch my essence through pride and revolt Our stormbrought winterthrone to eternalize I am but what I am Far from thy inebriating delusions Hidden ‘neath the blueprints of your edifices My entity you cannot steal