havent seen the sun in seven months
its the price you pay to shun
gods embrace its like a gun
loaded demon web is spun
havent heard my name spoken in a normal lexicon 
reflections are turning pale they call me oberon
Im the one that comes up from underneath the decrepit streets
pulling on your soul down to your bones your mind your rotted teeth
depictions of hell and nothing are painted in a twisted wreath 
heavy is the head that wears the crown and bathes in bloody grease
push it down and watch the blackened misery just flowin out
close your eyes erase your mind theres nothing felt without a doubt
let me do the talking I wont let you feel so pressed about
never remembering faces let the wrinkles iron out

I am not your friend.

Infinite Corridor

... MAKING WHAT I WANT, WHEN I WANT... I'LL PUT VOCALS ON MY BEATS EVENTUALLY...

[ THE COLLECTIVE COLLECTIVE {CO-FOUNDER} ]

[ MARTIAN ARMY PRODUCTIONS {MEMBER} ]

Grosse Feignasse

AMV Editor

J'edit que lorsque j'en ai envie alors cassé pas les couilles 👹🔪🔪 ****

Infinite Corridor

TUNDRAMANE