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A Million Dead Birds Laughing
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Void
Feed them the dawning tale of meaning
This operation shall awaken the decent
Fake relish their pieces
Embellish the reason
Set talons to bleed them
And damage the seasoning
Feed them the yawning ale
Disease now means nothing to them
Fake polish their faces
Hateful adoration
Abolish the layers of taste built beneath their shit
Favorite flavours
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Oh, if the enemy could taste its wings
Savouring flavours
Until the enemy dissolves
Soulless hordes
Contorted forms
They gorge
Oh, misery
Would they sing to be saved?
Consuming life
They have tried to feed the void
But failed
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