The mist of memories started to talk when I closed my eyes in the pitch darkness.
The vultures sat in the corner waiting for their turn to feed on leftovers let the king feast first from the memories and some that throttled the time were left as leftovers.
Did she not tell you the taste of blood, did she not tell you the oozing pain
I saw you stood their like a Specter who's afraid of his own growing pain, bewildering eyes to some questions in gain.
Mockery, deceit, burnt memories, ashes I see, did she not tell you the besiegement of her mind, did she not tell you the wall were strong to read her mind,
I saw you stood their like an unarmed man weak to the thrust.
Let the king feast onto the memories and let the rotten be for the vultures.
Let the blood clog and may you be there to itch It again,
The vultures sat in the corner waiting for their turn to feed on leftovers let the king feast first from the memories and some that throttled the time were left as leftovers.
Did she not tell you the taste of blood, did she not tell you the oozing pain
I saw you stood their like a Specter who's afraid of his own growing pain, bewildering eyes to some questions in gain.
Mockery, deceit, burnt memories, ashes I see, did she not tell you the besiegement of her mind, did she not tell you the wall were strong to read her mind,
I saw you stood their like an unarmed man weak to the thrust.
Let the king feast onto the memories and let the rotten be for the vultures.
Let the blood clog and may you be there to itch It again,
And let you be there to see her drenched in pain.
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