Fed To What Sleeps Beneath The Swamp

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Doom & Gloom

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This mass of twisted bodies
Lines the abyss
Swirling towards the aperture
It only asks for limbs to exist

There is no other anguish
Your last breaths are divine
A tempest of hunger
Composed of rot and slime

Swallowing
It's feats on the sick and weak
It thrives on lives
Their cries are what it seeks

A treat for whats asleep
Under these murky leagues

Trapped, ensnared
Into this obsidian pit
This low fog
Concealing its existence

Sludge atlas of noxious gas
So poisonous and contagious
This trench bogs them down
And clouds the sound of whom embrace it

Trapping until certain death
Vociferous and vile
Crushingly thick avarice
lts filth laden smile

Licks it's teeth
Of blackened ink
While smiling until it's next feast

There is no other anguish
Their last breaths are divine
A tempest, of hunger
Composed of rot and slime

Swallowing
It's feats on the sick and weak
It thrives on lives
Their cries are what it seeks

A treat for whats asleep
Under these murky leagues

Trapped, ensnared
Into this obsidian pit
This low fog
Concealing its existence

Beckoning Forth
With no remorse or empathy
Just one more of this main course misery

Fed to what's asleep beneath the swamp

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