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Facing my trial

With blood on my hands I die

Regrets for none of

The fuckers I have brought down

Carve through weak bodies

Disrupt their integrity

Hundreds will follow

The thousands that are hallowed

Drive me to madness, I want to feel your sadness

Slain corpses rotting, They will be turned to nothing

I was long wanted, By my own victims haunted

Should they be preserved, My place in hell is reserved

confess to excess, the smell of dying fregrance

Blodied roses wither, thy art of murder return

Mountains of greatness, decapitated essence

Should they be preserved, my ascendance is reserved

No more regrets 4x

No more regrets for the things that I have done

No more regrets for the people rotting deep down

No more regrets for the sights that eats my mind now

No more regrets for the filth that I've become

Carve trough softened flesh

Drink the sweet marrow

Pain as madmans cure

Prophecized to die