Poetry from a Poisoned Mind

The stench from the forest of burning skin

Bringing memories back, from ancient sacrifices

It has been centuries since I left my body

But I still live through the sound of torture

My sense falls to the depths

Of filth, pain and suffering

Which is feeding my inspiration

To my art of undead human corpse sculpture

I taste the evil to satisfy my mental hunger

If I wasn't immortal, I would be dead for the last time

No one will ever know what it was that swallowed eternity

A shadow will come from the past and take me

My sense falls to the depths

Of filth, pain and suffering

Which is feeding my inspiration

To my art of undead human corpse sculpture

I taste the evil to satisfy my mental hunger

If I wasn't immortal, I would be dead for the last time

No one will ever know what it was that swallowed eternity

A shadow will come from the past and take me