An immense cathedral of obscene proportions
Seeps through the fabric of reality
A vehicular edifice in constant change

The ice cold light from distant suns,
dim in the veils of sighing smoke

The desecratrix stabs the pure
licks and guzzles down their dread
with eldritch craft that fucks their souls
and founds them into twisted stone

A skeletal face of grotesque dismay
glaring from the rotten wall
Staring back from a distant aeon
A mere facet of the deathless arches

The desecratrix stabs the pure
licks and guzzles down their dread
with eldritch craft that fucks their souls
and founds them into twisted stone

Like the drone of a thousand groaning gods
the portent din scrapes our hearts
when the firmaments begin to freeze
and the eerie light from the phantom throne increase