Death Magic
We've eoven hearts, a thorn anbar
Left tears streaked reasons, upon the share
A benefit copass, stan, or more
Sent out for this world to end.
Few were the praw, whos't slave below
Painting coal with a perfect gold
But for all it's worth, be ended slow,
Dead, in the bincle's again.
From Cabin Fever, swallow me over the mountain
Praised to Phallais seas, that this,
A home, to clowns dicease
A storm rolls on the way
Blacker than the Ace of Rayses
Dealt out by death in darkwood glades
Or ship of feels all boards handmade
Sinks dashed by Seismic Waves...