Souls above the clouds of red have fallen off the coach that led them
to the place where glory dwells but leaves no mark of what has bled
The pillars of this spire holds what once had been skulls of gold
its cries are heard as lonely lambs diving into flames of mold
Emergence of spurn and disgust keep you as your tongues of lust
exalt their phlegm in hordes of glut that once was splendor now is rust
Here we stand as guiles of spite docile to life's foul blight
No one can sense despair or wile as broods of death writhe in flight
Those eyes despise what’s left of life
Angst and knives rape and scythes
Deny all that is left to shrive

SOUMETTRE LES CORRECTIONS