IniquityUpon a well traveled back road, a figure travels aloneIniquity
on an old path where others had began, There own walk to the throne.
But all the travelers did not see what it forbode, they saw power, and so for which they greedily ran It was not a path to some great lode, instead rather, a crushing stone.
A burden immense, a dark blanket on the mind, the traveler will wind down the path, until he is not his own, And he will rue this day, it will be the last thing he, himself, will say.
L'orgoglio
Just kidding. I like the ideas for a lot of these, not too shabby.
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Try and hide your face behind a mask of burning fate...
....and write your soul away
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Yes, we're open late.
i wish you a happy new year !!
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