Refusing to see all of those infected minds
Just to feel better in your own veins
Asking yourself why and how to share all
those visions
And more this nightmares of that lost humanity
Closed recipient filled of ominous spikes
Dont enter my private
desires
Bad habits are ruling forever
Pushing the door of a closed reality
For the science or any other learning
Metaphor
of colors
Blood red black
Altar of flesh
Razors cuts macabre breath of creation
Remembering old
deception
Censored!
Project!
Censored!
Project!
The wounds created by the flesh
Seem to be occulted by all of
us
Metaphor of colors
Blood red black
Altar of flesh razors cuts
Closed recipient filled of ominous
spikes
Censored!
Project!
Censored!
Project!
Little by little truths blood runs among us as an empty river
Im
like you making the black side
To reason and to kill the ideal lineage