Paroles de Shroud

Let the knife cut your tongue, the crows peck your eyes. Feel the blood slip on your skin, the taste of tears on your lips. The loss' pain ripping the chest, agony and torment of the past. Veins ripped by the glass, hope dead by the dread. Obsession to jerk the handcuffs. The land's conquest by the sword. Shroud wrapped on pleasure. Drinking the consanguineous blood.