Legend will tell of a machine who lives to destroy the world of man, with virtue as his cause.
Inside is nothing. A barren wasteland. Inside is nothing, but a heart of blackened oil and a self-righteous soul. He is but crank and lever. He is but bolt and clasp. The cogs turn about. Each wheel is locking into place. He is the machine. An abomination! He is the machine. His might shall rectify the sins of all. His might shall rectify the sins of all transgressors. Unseating those who oppose his judgment. His indignation boils with such virulence that all shall yield to him! All shall yield to him. He is the end. He comes for blood!
Inside is nothing. A barren wasteland. Inside is nothing, but a heart of blackened oil and a self-righteous soul. He is but crank and lever. He is but bolt and clasp. The cogs turn about. Each wheel is locking into place. He is the machine. An abomination! He is the machine. His might shall rectify the sins of all. His might shall rectify the sins of all transgressors. Unseating those who oppose his judgment. His indignation boils with such virulence that all shall yield to him! All shall yield to him. He is the end. He comes for blood!
Encontrou algum erro na letra? Por favor envie uma correção clicando aqui!