i am the one who is always exhumingni am the one you think you see in the darkest of nightsni have yet to reconcile the thoughts within myselfnfor still i am one with the deadnnOh, sanguine blood of thy corpsenquench my thirst and stain my skinnOh, how ironic it is to feel so alivenwhen you cease to existnni adore what i have becomeni have longed for such a love in my dreamsnand my wrath will not subside until this love is minenforever i remain the hideous figure treading these unholy groundsnfor i have failed the one who has created menmy conscious is telling me to ingest the flesh of the deceasednand with my tongue i shall lick the graves of all who will follow menmark my words, they will paynni still am one with the deadnand i swear to all that are dead