Power

I'm sourcing all my power to be talking the art of sour.

I trip as my eye twitches, fly towards the sky, witches, swords and demons.

I'm 'ma horde the reasons.

I'm 'ma give 'a jibber-jabber with 'a torture meaningless.

Rotten chains got you feeding less.

As I'm receiving bliss from your screams, soul pleasing. Yes!

Molar, teething, holding your bones, I'm eating. Yes!

Melted cheese on your femur. Yes!

I'm creeping upon you.

You didn't see me I'm on you like Jeepers Creepers peeper's. Yes!

I'm with 'a reapers quest of seeing you when you be meeting the death.

Reaping you when you be beaten at Chess.

We're leaving, your chest is bleeding, you be bleeding to death.