Worm-eaten marionettes obsessed with false illusion of fame
they had forgotten their own strings they had forgotten their own names wearing the crown of decay.
I built a bonfire from their bodies lit the fire and watched them burn.
They don't deserve a grave!
A festering wound is what they are burn out the wound with glowing hot iron feel the sweet smell of burning flesh feel the sweet smell of purification.
Day to day there is more that i feed to the flames!
This is my cleansing of this world!
I feel the sweet smell of burning flesh!
I feel the sweet smell of purification!
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