I sit upon the mountain crest Watching a world decay A storm of alabaster snow Where no love can grow Wilted trees stand still Dressed in garments of faded glows Wilted trees stand still I cannot tell which way The wind blows The psychotic swirl Of a lion-serpent Sun Gnawing at its tail Carving through gnashing rocks A delirium, sizzling Of some promethean curse Blessed be the heretic Blessed be the misanthrope Blessed be the beggars of a new hope All lilies darken Youth has gone Heathers crushed or perished Seedlings bashed against the stone The last child Savaged from a thousand wars Cries out for its mother Lost beneath the wreckage of man I saw through the perfect illusion Through the death-mask Through the light-trap But I was held back by some parasite Whispering curses in the dark Our fall The only religion uniting us all Never again will our hearts be healed All blessings further lie concealed This is how the dream ends With a smile With a blank stare Blessed be the heretic Blessed be the misanthrope Blessed be the beggars of a new hope All lilies darken Youth has gone Heathers crushed or perished Archons stray the crimson dawn Sophia Rising from a thousand wars Cries out for her children Lost beneath the wreckage of God Cursed be our dominion