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Imago Mortis, ever since the applebite, deathened! |
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The branches creep together, a chair with a cold back, |
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...Lux Rigor Mortis, Lux Rigor Mortis, Lux Rigor Mortis... |
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Today king, tomorrow worms and cold in mouth, |
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A reach for purity, through decay, through black soil excrements, |
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None shall stand before the Lord of the Death-Winged Dart, |
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Cold and hollow, silent yet piercing, |
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Death fire trumpets, fresh traces from twelve-to-twelve, |
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Pole to pole, infans to decrepitus |
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Sunbleached shadow, useless corpse, |
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Jesus loves you, useless corpse |
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...Lux Rigor Mortis, Lux Rigor Mortis, |
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Lux Rigor Mortis, Cinis Ater et Ossa. |
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Behold, one who moments ago, at the height of power, |
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Received worship from kneeling crowd, |
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Now himself cast down by death's dominion, |
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Bears mute witness to the whole world's face: |
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Cinis Ater et Ossa. |
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Sack of maggots, maggotsack, |
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Hopeless pile of hopeless bones, |
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So this was His holy plan for you? |
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Wings of dust, handful of nothing, |
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Iron skies and streets of brass, |
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Even the Whore, she loves us all! |
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Imago Mortis, ever since the applebite, deathened! |
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The branches creep together, a reach for purity, |
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Through decay, through black soil excrements, |
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All must kneel before the Lord of the Death-winged Dart, |
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Imago Mortis, |
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Wings of Dust, |
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Handful of Nothing, |
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Hopeless pile |
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Of hopeless bones. |