Psyclon Nine

Transcending life through sleeps decree
This I wear shall taste debris
Through rancor find serenity
Visceral holocaust to see
Insipid dreams were flowing red
A sea of sin from cattle thats been bled
Unbeknownst until the end
With their backs to life they'd rather be home instead
Unto the beast an image made
Of broken flesh culled from the sharpest blade
They say we men are wretched things