And as the sands of time
conspire to burry me forever.
Pathetic dance of fools
awash in deaths joyful endeavours.
Awake, it seems, sadly to be
lonely and in search of distractions.
All their squandered hours,
their unused brains conspire to erase me.

I shall endure - Perdurabo!
Though only in a torturous dream.
I did not survive the Abyss,
but the hope to leave this world alive.

As smiling I place my bloody hand
on the lever.
It has come to this: happily,
I ride the white horse of dreams.
The Aeon,
the crowned and conquering child,
I am his flawed and sad herald.
Seeing me, even Magog is Agog.