The Undying Blaze of the Sun of the Depths Gives Colour to the sinking eye of the Prophet Over our cleansed bodies Burning like incense Our mouths opened again to receive the ashen rain
Silenced be this darkness Between the worlds Where my wounds run cold United in Blood as the heirs of the morning star Shall cripple before the Masters fall
Ripped from the Mother' crystal Womb the truth is consumed Within inner sanctum walls As a sculpture, flesh ceases being
The Dying Seed of leaden stream Like bathym ash strewn over my years The one made of blood an ashen wings Possessed by only sorrow
Bother not my sleep For I seek his flame of purification Sown on this black earth
The sullen eye that harbours the night In his shadow I am yearning for death