You can’t tig your butcher

We are children of Nero

I saw a snake coming towards me and knew that this is a temptation.

Round these parts they still burn witches.

Those that say they aren’t scared of the dark, they’ve never been truly trapped in it.

Death has only one arm; it takes and never hands back.

And the pale rider looked at me and knew that I was Death

They will remove the tongues of women who speak

Even Angels Fall, That Does Not Make Them Human

Rejection is like a gunshot, it pierces through the soul.