|
|
|
SANCTITY
ROAD TO BLOODSHED |
|
|
The Shape Of Things
As I watch this creature grow
It starts to take a look
Just under it's own being
And what it finds
Will be the nothing it has sought
Lost for all time, this prize
When will it bite the hand that feeds it
First taste of flesh it is so pure
The shape of things so twisted
With one quick strike
The master turns to slave
The beast has grown from it's bonds
And what it finds
Outside the gates of it's own mind
For all time unkind
When will it bite the hand that feeds it
First taste of flesh it is so pure
The shape of things so twisted
As I watch this creature grow
It starts to take a look
Just under it's own being
When will it bite the hand that feeds it
First taste of flesh it is so pure
The shape of things so twisted
No longer recognize this nightmare
|
