My mind is wrapped in winds of enslavement
"I'm sorry I
I whirl like wilted petals in blissful reverie affected only
The envious audience is chasing us through the cold slop
I am Mephisto in a sanctified guise attired in robes
Craving hands carved in my back
If love was present I'd
The vortex of addiction is out of square
there are imaginary
Winter and autumn drove hand in hand
dazzled by the
All dressed with horror but still so fucking beloved
The queen
Imagine the starry eyed audience chasing us through (the cold
» More on Enslavement of Beauty