Hour Of Penance

Tons of blood swallowed before nausea.
Finally I've learned from frustration.
My isolation, I'm forced to hide,
while you're observing.
But you mean nothing, now you're useless.
Time of my reprisal,
for you're nothing, weightless scumbag, weightless scumbag.
Peel slowly and see a new dimension of my reprisal.
Become now the feeding flesh, the holy spirit of my own frustration.
Naked knife absolution.
I've burnt the altar you caught me in.
I'm a restless machine.
Tasting with nausea,
reaching for relief in a bulimic state.
Irony of the torture machine.