Left Hand Solution The Futile Passion
In the gallery of lost hopes We stand as mortal shells In this futile passion Let the whorish smile seduce you In this sickness we all carry Let the insects crawl you through On this sweet and sickly day My soiled hands dig in the mould Where all beauty lies rotting In the gallery of lost hopes You pass between my memories As morality dies in my heart Let the whorish smile seduce you On this sweet and sickly day White sheets drenched With bodily fluids that dry on my skin Experience the infection I bring I cling to you in fever and lay myself into your sea And let the nausea wash through me