REST IN PIECES

Bones in the earth and blood on my hands
Spirits around me at every turn
Sarcophagi await in the sands
Orchids arranged within to surely burn
The animalistic rituals
Held forever in canopic jars
Self-made god haunted and serial
Killing all endeavors in the dark

Cold to the touch
Embrace the dead
Bury the hatchet
In the head of words said

Chewing the corpse and left to my own
Devices, a history of bad luck
I hear white noise more than live tones
A fly in the spider's web of fuck
This shit it has left me with nothing
Bequeathed to me by skeletal hands
My name is worthless to sinners and kings
I walk the earth, the land of the damned

I am all of what you are
If you had but walked the left hand path
This poem was written in scars
Like Braille tattooed with blood and wrath

I've being torn apart
And rest in pieces

I have lost my mettle
Unholy vessel of peril
This mortar and pestle
That's grinding gristle and metal
I have lost my mettle
Unholy vessel of peril
This mortar and pestle
That's grinding gristle and metal

Cold to the touch
Open the grave
Bury the hatchet
In the face of the day
Speak the last rites
Embrace the dead
It's bullet night
In the head of words said

You are all of what I was
If you had but walked the left hand path
This poem was written in rust
Like Braille tattooed with blood and wrath

We've being torn apart
And rest in pieces

I am all of what you are
If you had but walked the left hand path
This poem was written in scars
Like Braille tattooed with blood and wrath

I've being torn apart
And rest in pieces