The Culling
Chelsea Wolfe
Dead eyes
I only call you when you’re in my dreams
Died too young
The culling then, it was obscene
I am depleted by love
I am depleted by love
I’ll never tell the secrets of my family
Bled out
A cult of anonymity
The kettle is wheeling, my love
Riding on the back of a hell they caused
One ear to the ground
One eye on the room
My tongue on your pulse
My finger in your wound
Sweet dead eyes, I long to hear you again
Sweet dead eyes, I long to see your face
Sweet dead eyes, I long for that illustrious hiss
Sweet dead eyes, I know you feel it
No turning back
Only God knows what we’re headed for
The flowers bloom
The sun rises
Flux
Hiss
Welt
Groan