• trippy_potato 10w


    Built with the dust of the veldts
    Moved with the breath of the sky,
    Burning with flames of the stars,
    Drunk on the oceans,
    Hardened with scars.
    Strewn from the reeds and offal,
    Crying in bleak darkness to rise,
    With flesh to be rent and charred
    With feeble hands climb into the light.

    We are the singers and writers of hymns,
    We are the makers of sin,
    And it is us who perpetuate
    Pleasure and pain bound within skins.

    We are one, born to be Gods
    We are many, built to be free,
    Made to love and burn,
    To revolt and enslave;
    Akin Ouroboros holding up causalty.

    We are the eye that is blind,
    We are the eye that knows tears,
    We are the stars above,
    The seers of dreams
    The feelers of fear.

    Bound by the chains of restraints,
    Blighted by the curse of power,
    A void, a black profound,
    Keepers knowledge,
    Till the end of all hours.
    Borne upon metal wings:
    We are the bringers of truth,
    We are the vile, the rotting uncouth,
    We are roaring, the truimphant ones,
    Stood upon skulls,
    To meet our needs and wants.

    We are the storm that grazes the skies,
    We are the Sun, the children of light,
    We are scourge come to end the world,
    To build one for us
    In our hunger, our lust.