[video]
(Source: edcunningham, via la-nena-con-muchos-libros)
(via eating-sins)
[video]
On the vowels of madness
Your father lies
Responsibility
Echoes its call
As a son of a father
To clear his mind
Is your impossible duty
He called us traitors
In death it will follow
The peasants are ostracize
Voices Reverberate inside a skull
Questioning his morality
Inquiring his madness
A son was the final straw
He called us Traitors
In death it will follow
When sword met flesh
A consequential curse unfold
And the down beneath
Took its toll
A son’s responsibility
Unwrapped a father’s fortune
He called us Traitors
In death it will follow
In death it will follow
Little bundles of agony
To spread its wonder
Of unrelinquished torment
Throughout the joyous people
From down below
And the weight of a decision
Burdens a loving son
Who was called a traitor
With articulated madness
And in death it followed
From down below
(Source: sheisglorious, via totots)
(via gameofgifs)
(via mutilacion-)