Mortal Sin

Regurgitate my chorus of filth, succumb to a frozen lake of blood and guilt
The punishment, it fits the crime, join a sea of repugnant souls in due time
I'm not sure what's worse; the fact that you were bred to do this or my fall from grace

I'm fucking fed up of your sordid little love affair with disgust
It follows me around, I see the repulsion in their eyes
No saints, no solace
I am hate, I am violence, I am malice
I am intrepid, uncontrolled, and unbaptized

The sickening urgency of desire that overcomes the moral once instilled
Dying light from the mother womb, bathed in mire of the exhumed
All remnants of safety are consumed
I'm not worse than you, I'm not worse than you