There is evil in this world, evil that has become inscribed unto every soul.
We see it in people around us, we see it in ourselves—in hasty decisions, in disobedience, in hatred, in jealousy, in selfishness— it's everywhere, it's become a disease, and no one wants a cure.
People like the taste of the apple, they crave the sweet nectar of sin.
It's forbidden, that's why it's so delicious.
But they don't know it's death, as it goes smoothly down the throat, to the stomach, wreaking havoc to the system—sweet to the tongue but bitter to the stomach.
We're all drunk, drunk with filth, drunk with sin, drunk with death.
We like how it calls us, we fade away and willingly enter her lap, sin.
She's seductive, an enchantress, you won't realise until you're caught in her net.
Only one person I know that is strong enough to overcome her, only one blood.
She runs from his light, she runs from the taste of his blood.
"Go away!" She screams, "leave them to me!"
But he shakes his head, "No, there's still time, we still have a little bit more time."
Enraged she runs from him because she'd lost.
But there in her cave she waits, calling to whoever would listen, to whoever is bare of her enemy's blood, to whisk them away into her grimy dungeon.
"Come, son of man, I have what you want, "
She gives, but what she gives is nothing compared to what she takes.
Flee, son of man, flee.
The only thing she'll give, is death.
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.
.
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Run from her, she waits for the unsuspecting. Flee I say, flee.
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