Isolation & The Blackguard
T.Scorn / Gideon, Music: I.Hate]
I unmasked my genesis, this given patricide While clairvoyance the super-ego and this all meaning died. I beheld a million brainchildren on the illiberal pyre And an implacable pandemonium of a wobbling hive Draped in droning shapes Gifted a fleece Hymns scribbled in a hand Caught shifting in the As a rabis tragedian, accosting this imbecile While impeaching their cerulean innocence my laceration of prevailed. Debonairity gifted, I now fail to bewail their fall, as I sneer at their febrile fear and halter their moribound call. of Misanthropy Avatar of A bulwark in lands flawless by the sand Embellished by its drudges and sanctimony survives Through incessant mystical which the samblance of truth denies. Self-abnegation and abjected to a gallantry-show, Of flimsy threats - This the humans of Earth bestow. lines with mounting glee Flashed a smile Eldritch turns of father Concoction of mead and Boundless preternatural wrangling and profound, in quile and iconolatry and gormless mass is bound. Fragmentation of the perceptive and in the nebulous enwrapped, signing the great necrology - By odius gibber entrapped. Widower of a host vestigial bride Litaire of zeal the "I" In the maelstrom still imploring in coltish laboured need, the headsmen of heterogeneity are a gasping breed. Dissimulating the plausible, nugatory accolade of disillusion, with eveningsongs of undiluted clemency drabbled in pure confusion. of misanthropy Avatar of A in heathen lands Blasted flawless by the Above this quaint opulence, this risible neurathenia of man, I cachinate as a blackguard, these dying lands. In the ablart of lamentation lupine I walk in knavery, mordacious with an eerie truth - A rampant obfuscating novelty. Patron of Avatar of The bulwark of heathen lands Blasted by the sand