MrDarksMayhem

Words sipt out recklessly A prelude to a fall In a damage-machine Set in Spite's factory A night in which demons roar Struggling to break their chains And they are calling my name They are calling me If one can't survive But yield to its Master's call Should instead break open The putrid doors of Hell itself? A flowing stream of hate, blood and fear Runs through Dream's fingers Awake in a glassy Bell jar The shreds of his ego are calling His voices are calling my name They keep calling me!