Napalme Existence

This is my promise to you

The broken, who bleed silently, outlined in sickly red

Their masters, with glazed eyes and numb hands

When skies fall, burning with disease

To eradicate

And reverse the error of everything

This f**king mess

I shall smile

As the flesh drips from my face I will be laughing

Laughing at my reflection

And at this misfortune undone

This is your plague

I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I will