The Red Death - Thrice

Weld the bolts and close the iron gate.

Drink deeply the illusion of your saftey.

My how wishful thoughts inebriate.

masquerade,

And revel in your opulence.

Writhe unfettered by your stabs at ignorance.

Swim through hues and whispered tones of heresy.

A dozen strokes to run your blood cold enough to believe.

Remember me?

you look so suprised to see me here.

With hell’s black wings did I o’erperch these walls,

For stony limits cannot hold me out.

And now you all die.