Withered کے بول

Sweet misery flow into my soul I lay here not rotting yet life grows cold Kissing the lips of my condemned eternity Caressing the body of this decrepit entity Bestowed not taught I can show you all the stench Within the dim moonlight I have the power of your breath A golden urn of ashes Appears above me God-damn you ail with your absurdity Awaken putrid disembowelment The liers of the third moon Dishearted, internal abolishment Transfixed by the wound Ecstasy rides again, from within I feel them reach out, again Awakened by the stench of decay like this earth, I waste away I'm living life as a corpse Like the ones, I have risen before Mortal rotting, postmortem I gave Selfish plotting, I waste away