The Dying Buds of May

Blister'd be their envious tongues, cut 'em well like a cunt yet to be satisfied
 had I only the poison mixed, the sharp vengeance knife, the suicide
 whilst dry sorrow drinks our blood, the torture still roars in dismal hell
 the mortal paradise of such sweet flesh became the purgatory, (indeed) the (very) hell itself

 Cut me out of the tragedy, exhibit me as I wear thy lunacy
 can heaven be so envious, as to keep me in absence fro' thee…

 Whilst dry sorrow drinks our blood, the torture still roars in dismal hell
 the mortal paradise of such sweet flesh became the purgatory, (indeed) the (very) hell itself

 I desecrated the disgusting cross upon which the prince of lies apparently died
 once upon a November cold when I cunningly committed my suicide…

 Everyone was bored with love
 -and God was never more distant

 Affliction is enamoured of thy lovely parts, and thou art wedded to calamity
 luciferous serpentine, hid with a flowering face, appearing everywhere
 I was infected with thy poison, my tongue profoundly possessed by affirmatives
 all slain, all dead, the tragedy was woe enough, if it had only ended there

 Exhilarated to death in bondage unison, filling the soulvoid with hate
 love laid in exhile's chains, so what the hell is there to celebrate…

 Faretheewell, faretheewell…one kiss and I'll descend into the blooming pits of hell

 The darling deeds of autumn
 the dying buds of May
 Cupid painted dour with lust
 raining energy as we decay…