Temple of the Slaves

Unscaved with Time Never divine Souls come and linger In this theatrical pantomime Temple of the slaves, rise from their Graves Misfits and jesters alike, juggle souls with rotten spikes Temple of the slaves, with guns blazing in the skies A poetic endless war, with the dead at its core Immortally bitten to mass submission The spirit of time is ashamed For thy art is not dead, it’s just in your head Where imagination strives. The brain does not lose, it’s potential to cruise Inside the now decomposed tunnels of time A show made to say, that we’re not just clay Our essence still lingers to entertain and play Temple of the slaves, rise from their Graves Misfits and jesters alike, juggle souls with rotten spikes Temple of the slaves, with guns blazing in the skies A poetic endless war, with the dead at its core Forsaken creations, will rock the foundations This temple is on the rise For the show must go on, so observe what’s been spawned With no reason or a rhyme A Malignant infection, a pandemic show, An afterlife achievement Temple of the slaves