Lyrics
Scholarly pursuits of life after death
Existing after your last breath
Skin is rotting off, vision's nearly lost
Erudition achieved at all cost
Supersede the need to feast for creed
Existing after your last deed
Skin is rotting off, vision's nearly lost
Erudition achieved at all cost
I hear their screams
And smell their reeking
Rotting corpses
A sickness
Growing inside of me
Gnawing at the void
Where my self should be
When
I am dead and rotten
Through death I'm begotten
Weathered over time
My bones will be forgotten
Sacrificed humanity
Long riddled with disease
Atop a bone-made throne
I am lord of the grave
Commanding forces by decree
Long riddled with disease
They reap but do not sow
I am lord of the grave