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Nature Yoga

de Sacred Bansuri

A corpse should be left well alone

Only an honest death will cure me now
Yearning for the final thread of my neck to let go
My wrist and arteries spill onto an astral resting place
I'm bound to suffering eternal

A God slowly decays
A corpse washed upon the shore

Harvest the blood, partake of the crusade
Stomach the guilt
Holy mutations of an eldritch being
An honest death to cure the ailment
Mutilation of the innocent weeping, condemned

Purge the guilt from inside me
My penance is pouring from my wrist

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