Drain of Incarnation

When the trade had happened they could barely notice Acting undefeated as if the breed were their own blood Getting integrated with the knowledge of it as they feed it on enamel nail and bone I can tell you confidently that whatever you believe in you would throw it all away and beg a God in any heaven to rid your brain of how it feeds Taking the place of us Our kind made to grow into Ignis Nativitas Hatching to immolate Newly woken lit on fire Many of them enter mended all together Burning in a whaling alter Defects erupt from the bowers competing without cause or intent for a chance to live Riding up the root of rotting intertwining infant limb and natal liquid leaking out of every tunnel in the blackened multitude of ever growing living yelling tar When the trade had happened they could barely notice Acting undefeated as if the breed were their own blood Getting integrated with the knowledge of it as they feed it on enamel nail and bone I can tell you confidently that whatever you believe in you would throw it all away and beg a God in any heaven to rid your brain of how it feeds Taking the place of us Our kind made to grow into Ignis Nativitas Hatching to immolate In the Drain of Incarnation Ripped from the scape Peeling of like bark and floating around the wreath of terminated incubation Drawing inward Taking with it all the rotting fruit that fall in and around it in a violent cyclical Drain of Incarnation Boanet Grown and fed had taken flight to our world Riding on the reveries of the unborn and dreaming young Futile and undefined Minds thrown on the track of banshee talon Torn under claw in the wake of their flight They manipulate the venom flowing in them to eliminate us Spiraling into the Drain of Incarnation Into the Drain of Incarnation The pulse of the tide rip our remains forever into the Drain of Incarnation Boanet grown and fed had taken flight to our world Riding on the reveries of the unborn and dreaming young Futile and undefined Minds thrown on the track of banshee talon Taken by the pull of tide into the Drain of Incarnation Riding on the reveries of the unborn and dreaming dead