Mourning Beloveth - Elemental Nausea


It's cold (so fucking cold) 
A sordid trip to the wowels of creation 

The seductive wasteland, marrow of the world 
That gentle melancholy that so endeared in times past 
It seems to hang with an unnerving ease 
I've been here before but now it seems there is no way out 

There is now way out but down, the ante chambers to nothing 
The terror scratching at the surface of sanity 

Eyes are plucked 
The jackals are coming 
Hands are bleeding 
Raw from the scratching 
Freedom lies 
The depths of 
Lies 

Freedom lies 
Through the ether 

Elemental nausea 
Free to stagnate 
Grinding elation 
Oppressive opiates 
Residue of flesh 
Through the ether

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