Addicted to the sorcery, the spells that they preach.
Runs sirens of brewing storms in the air that they reach.
They're haunting like needles, told whisper of tall shame.
Every spell is like knives stabbing one wound over and over again.
Dripping insides of poisoned blood and sending angels insane.
Driven by foolish boisterous noises as if horns became train.

Trained keys talk aimlessly and stumble to pick up mass amounts.
As shells die young and old people force to sing so long they've lost count.
The magic pounds liquid, spewing authority in the veins.
The people must listen to the loud throbbing voices to gain.
As if the earth is felt between dying and living and breathing brings pain.
Silent records of the same old dusty tune sends even the most strongest...

(Wait... I'll refrain...)

As the mist spits out constant dreams, but nightmares stomps through reality.
Focus of hard inhales become prominent to sick hosts, in which brains remember tragedy.
Like bells of cute ringing fills the air in cheer...
Sadly though, everyone knows when curtain calls
The truth lies in dispair
Ashes.... ashes... the truth starts to tear
And images of what's beneath become visual...
Take a bow
Smile
Know the true meaning of


Fear...


By Nika J
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