• Crusted vows.
    They're simmering uptight auras.
    It's of a grade that surpasses terms.
    Are there boys who know what's in their faith?

    Eyes boldly surveying.
    Vultures thirst for subservient flesh.
    You heated his sand into glass
    And confined in it what you can equate

    The black drought claims a pattern
    That heals all those within its storm
    Why do they fear the lesser evils
    Reminding them of blood upon first taste

    Jeremy raises his wine
    This is a protective compression against
    Any modern-day saint that dismisses the use
    Of alchemy as the use of energies to replicate

    Acheron conspires with tranquility
    It's all for the merging of the fumes
    Expected to rise from charred flesh
    Do you know what adheres least to faith?

    Weary screams delineate replicas
    Of their suspected turbulence
    He is from the same flavor club
    Where every hint of stagnation is despised

    Bodies lay silently on quartz beds
    Their souls held captive in benzene
    Marred shouts convert into white noise.
    It's the hour of the abusive shock

    Jeremy raises his wine
    This is preemptive suppression of any nuisance
    Confusing alchemy with necromancy
    Or as usage of energies left to dissipate