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• Artiste: Chelsea Wolfe
• Titre: Fight Like Gods
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Holy, Holy, Holy, Holy What happens when the dream is better than the waking? What happens when we don't dread our own body breaking? From our bed i can see the dark clouds start to seeth right above us and my stare is hard and my grip on the knife tightens. Holy, Holy Lethe, the only one from which we drink the water. Help us forget when we drink and feel the strength of the moment. We were never meant to be such vessels of physical form. May our bodies come to know the true fillings of the spirit of fire. Holy, Holy Thy Love, Thy Love, Thy Love, Thy Love My Love, My Love, My Love, My love Thy Love, Thy Love, Thy Love, My Love You doubt and you're desperate, you wear both your cross and your hammer. Such beautiful dreams of violence, in them your tongue is made of silver. But we don't fight like Animals - we fight like Men. No, we don't fight like Men - we fight like Gods. Holy, Holy No we don't fight like Animals - we fight like Men. No, we don't fight like Men - we fight like Gods.