Septic Testament - The Absence

I’ve seen the rotten masquerade

I’ve heard the thin veiled vows

I’ve watched you snap like a filament

In the presence of true resolve

These spells of porous conviction

They forever seem to seep

From the weeping eyes and the tainted trust

Of seasoned liars & lifelong thieves

Lapse into monologue

In the presence of your setting son

With wingless shoulders growing cold

There’s no grace left to fall from

So deviate

Into another comatose shade

plastered to another portrait

Of useless human waste

Lapse into monologue

In the presence of your setting son

With wingless shoulders growing cold

There’s no grace left to fall from

Beneath me

Coursing through my flesh

I can feel you

Like razors in my veins

Beneath me

Coursing through my flesh

I can hear it still, In my own voice

You- My cursed architect

Here, I wash away

Spawn of your septic testament

Un-sired, spawn of your septic testament

In the sanctum of sickness

Like father, unlike son

Now

Revel in these necrotic cures

Then shatter to your knees

Groveling at narcotic altars

Where wretched worms always feast

Beneath me

Coursing through my flesh

I can feel you

Like razors in my veins

Beneath me

Coursing through my flesh

I can hear it still, In my own voice

You- my cursed architect