Prick of The Thorn - with Everavalon

Wandering boldly over the scold of demise
Milling the land of this nectar
that seeps curiously from my wit
I am the prick of the thorn
of the dark mind's rotting canopy  
Becoming a puppet, seduced by death  
and obsidian stones whispering thirst
Falling deeper into the realm of insanity  
like the big boys...you know who, who
have no pulse