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Unearthed are the paths of my mind

Unsound visions of the living and the light

seen in the distance when I poisoned

the last piece of my mind

The black light of my end

and the bright light of my hope

of being descending below

to peace, to rest, to turn to dust

Unearthed are the paths to your rotting flesh

that still inhales the dirt of the ground that you were made of

Polluted by the blood and body of Christ

Putrefaction of him grows stronger in you in the deep

The bright light was no different for you

Only the lies you spread echoes in my ears

They interfere my rest until you're nothing but dust

But the flesh will abscond and the stench will rise