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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
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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
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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
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The bulwark of heathen lands
Blasted by the sand