Psyclon Nine - The Feeble Mind lyrics

rate me

Your flesh a shrine to my soul torn from bone dripping crimson red

Your time is now I dream of death on ready wings with nothing left

Light floods your eyes as you struggle bound in terror

Enveloped in the stench of morality

Tattered dolls found wrapped in plastic

Tortured souls freed from humanity

The feeble mind will pray to God the feeble mind will fall