I'm Coming for Your Putrid Soul
From the prayers of my blood,
Once my spirit begins its walk,
Safe passage past the torment
Is predetermined; the fix is in.
I will pass through Hell's gate
With my hope for the lord's revenge,
Then greet with a curious smile
The philosophers that spoke my life.
The violent storms will calm
My will; adultery seen not.
No lust in the hoarder's tax,
Remembering their squandered weapon.
The wall of Dis stands not
A barrier, but an opening
To glimpse at the flaming tombs
Of those who speak false, of the bright sky.
With the steps of a child,
I'm coming for your putrid soul.
Immersed in the boiling blood
Of those stolen few; I will pluck thee.
I will inflict Hell's dream
Of wanting vengeance upon thee.
Then drag your soul that was yanked
Too fast, to stand before the laws high.
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