Lies Of Autumn

Burn The Priest

Composed by: Burn the Priest
As the leaves fall yellowing like aged paper, thoughts turn acrid and curl 
like cigarette smoke rising from a butt ground out on my arm. 
Step into this 
decay and experience dissolution. 
Crucified on a plank of cruelty, crucified 
on a plank of apathy to sleep the winter away. 
Immobile for the cold 
duration. 
Huddled in isolation, to sleep the winter away.
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