Around your neck a round tight
A knot of thorns to all holy men and kings
I am the shape of your vilest fears
I give unto you desolation and Hunger
The brightness of a funereal frost
I’m the gallows and the sword
Feel the pain when I smash your face in to pieces
When I rip out from your chest a still beating heart
You are shit, equal to the worst trash that haunts my desert of pain.
Violence? Nothing beats my hostile excesses
for all the hatred
I sing for your death
I AM MISERY TO THE BONE
