When all desires of the heart die, mortal man becomes immortal.
Immortal Skull is for the Gentlemen.
He’s black-tie finished with a top hat kinda sin.
Find him tucked in the back of a speakeasy.
He’s always fast but never sleazy.
The Witch’s Cupboard:
Musky liquor swims beneath his mouth.
Whiskey tickles your nose, reminding you he’s from the old south.
Full of superstition, he burns of holy wood.
He’s gonna melt you with eyes of cedarwood.
Herbs dancing in the background:
Crushed butterfly spin in a flask.
Oakmoss soaks up everything that it lacks.
A pinch of patchouli soothes your fear.
Pieces of white willow & oak to hold it all dear.