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...