Procession (Genitorturers)

Subjected nevermore, to the whims of the dying Steal their flesh, from the pool of the lying Injected more, erythematous moisture Beyond high, by the chosen kind Feel it, to breathe evermore Of the wicked of the world, where processions' end Subjected nevermore, to the fears of the dying Feel their high, attempts to allude Your flesh will sigh, in the midst of moisture One sect more for the chosen kind Can you feel it? Can you feel their high? Feel it! Breathe evermore! Breathe from the chosen kind, then lie back down Feel their high and breathe evermore End your search for the nevermore