Septic Flesh 

 

  

 

   Razor Blades of Guilt

 

 

  Hedonism, power in life without end

  Morality and remorse banished

  An epitaph of useless beliefs and countless mistakes

  Left to the outcasts.

  Those who were found guilty for self torment

  

  Never admitting so, betrayed by their shiver

  While mutilating their happiness

  With razor blades of guilt

  

  Their voices rise like an irritating whisper

  To the AEONAON fortress

  But there is no need for warriors

  That can not win their own battles

   

  

  

  Razor blades of guilt

  

  No beggars are allowed in, to feast in sympathy

  This treasure is kept and shared

  With the beloved loyal comrades

  

  Wearing the title of the trinity

  Warlord, magician and king

  Hands are raised grasping golden cups

  In a toast for hedonism.

  Power in life without guilt