Kings of the Carnival Creation

Incarnated marvels simplified effects from such a disconsolate kind. Impotence of the once so perfect living, erase and rewind. Stand rigid for the next battle, peace means reloading your guns. The love for life is all hatred in disguise, a carnival creation with masks undone. In search for the guidelines to the gateways of sin, through mires of misanthropy with wrath in mind. Sophistication as cruelty and perfection as the virulent truth, confidently dawned to pick the best of enemies. An abyss womb stretched wide open, exposed to retaliate. With the stigma feasting upon your flesh as I wish you well, thorns from the fountains of fate licking lepered skin. Worshipped by anyone's mass on our Planet Hell. What on earth possessed you? Consuming illusions made from hysteria and swallowed tongues. Devoured by doubt, conducting arts of misconception. Testimonial sufficiency declaring numbness of all perceptions. Glance into the blackness hidden beneath your surface and enjoy the suffering, sanity drained in disrespect. With such bedevilled faith in good subsequently trusting evil. Next step for mankind will be the last seasons in sin. With the stigma feasting upon your flesh as I wish you well, thorns from the fountains of fate licking lepered skin. Worshipped by anyone's mass on our Planet Hell. What on earth possessed you? Consuming illusions made from hysteria and swallowed tongues. Left are the kings of the carnival creation, carrying out the echoes of the fallen. Sense the withering eternity as it fades away, the ultimate graceless voyage of all times. Only Death will be guarding your angels silently, cripples joining arms in clamour. Institutionalized for the rebirth the herd will be hunted!