Miasma (Scorn Shall Prevail)

Ingress the frail complex of your ways, An apt position deserving of infection, your common vermin, devourer of excess. He comes, rodentia infest! A ride on the red to main, the unseen tap your streams, inseminate your veins. Born into thirst and disease, the children of Death this night with you sleep. Servents of sanguine sickness, they itch at your heels, bringing silence through your screams from the Mother unto thee.
"From Mother we come and for her despair we sing"
We hope, we hope you fall now, to your knees, the conscience burning strong, you have wronged, you have wronged the womb and in her folds, none will hear your cries.
This is justice! Her justice! Ridding her skin of the leech!
"If thou wilst not reform thy ways and relieve my pain, scorn shall prevail, bleed now betrayers!
I serve as your vital source yet I am not your whore, to kneel and be raped by all...encroached upon and infectious...War is born!
Fell them all rodentia! Bells call their names!
Scorn shall previal, bleed betrayer! Scorn shall prevail, fell them all rodentia!
Oh yes! An inconspicuous kiss, and all is silent! Clean, pristine, yet the wind still dances her steps to pestilential irony...a fateful intervention to crush your dreams"
Glorious Pest!