Entranced by the mists of disease
We rest our eyes upon the Monarch
The apparent true claimant of the crown
Sowing grains of comprehension
That an unworthy heir is to reign beyond the grave
A possible tale forgotten and buried?
A long lost wisdom of treachery?
A tablet ripped from our prophecy?

And in dismissive awe we cross the ragged floor
Vile visions glare in the sooted flare from torch after torch

Past fields of futile dreams went our voyage to seek
The wreath of wither and to reap the seeds of filth
Rumours led us hither but all we glean
Are visions of tongues on skin, in this moulted depiction of sin

Doors open and heavy shadows are cast upon our figures
As we adhere to the alluring hands of The Great Depressor
We behold the crown and our ignorance fades
In the glistening reflection of a lost sunray
No lies fool our eyes as they gaze upon The Great Devourer
The true lion of our Sun!

The volatile flicker drowns in the shade
Encapsuled in a jewel the Sun’s lost ray fades
Down, our Monarch leads the way

Another set of slanting corridors coil behind the gate
Doors etched by panicked nails, in vain!
For there’s no surpassing the ways of fate
And we are led past a blown torch
Into a chamber with sooted, scorched floors
Stained by deeds unknown
Rows of catafalques
Shackles
Walls hollowed
A reek of womb
Our intentions of cleansing put us in debt to oblivion
Mistaken for wisdom to own

And in dismissive awe we cross the ragged floor
Vile visions shared with The Depraved Heir
As fuel for the engorged entities of fleshrot
A journey into tragedy
To pollute the futile breeding of life

Life is futile
Always we would seek the meaning, in vain
For life was futile
Vile visions will be our last
As life stays futile, we’ll wither in infinite nihility