Elemental Nausea — Mourning Beloveth

It's cold (so fucking cold) A sordid trip to the wowels of creation

The seductive wasteland, marrow of the world That gentle melancholy that so endeared in times past It seems to hang with an unnerving ease I've been here before but now it seems there is no way out

There is now way out but down, the ante chambers to nothing The terror scratching at the surface of sanity

Eyes are plucked The jackals are coming Hands are bleeding Raw from the scratching Freedom lies The depths of Lies

Freedom lies Through the ether

Elemental nausea Free to stagnate Grinding elation Oppressive opiates Residue of flesh Through the ether