The Gates of Bloodshed

Listen!
This necromourn is hounding
These waters reflect the unsilent face
Madman stares straight in madman’s eyes
Carved flesh to see beneath his skin
Deep in the dark
Where blood turns black
Soil turns red and gods are mad
A death-trip among the living
The gift they grant him
Lack of sanity
The coin to cross the eternal river
White in eyes
As last drop falls
Heaven sounds like mourn to me
Wilings enthrone all absence
Moisty earth
Endless plains to suffer
Where sanity resembles divinity