Decomposed Delirious - with Crimsin

Haunted renaissance and memories in lyrics
with nothing but darkness in death's cornfed
and conjured moss of a whisker veil in a fickled
metamorphosis of newborn twilight where grass
grows through the hair of the dead and nameless
tweeds with a stench of decomposed delirious

Even the damned have something to offer
coiffeurs with maggots and entrails to sample
curdled blood jiggles and an eye protrudes
a name scribbled on a tombstone with the inscription
here lies Mr. Crud, he was a scoundrel in life
hung on a crisp morn in December,
may he always be remembered