You have no name but the thousands we have given to you
(yet none of them glorifies you more than silence)
...made of might and sorrow...
My red grinning wrists call you
They know your name
They are your name
Your excellency, you are the rotting factor in me
You are the mist behind their backs
Life is my grave
There is no salvation only the purple Throne in a black room behind the fucking nightmare mirrors of life
You are the inevitable
and I speak to you with an unknown language
words about nothingness
voices without words
mouths with no tongues
You are the inevitable
King 666
You have no name nor language
You are the purple throne
and the bloodred sky
and I call you with my knife
in front of the nightmare mirrors of life