Between the damned,
the pissed and the outright insane
Grand architects of failure,
sculptors of loss
No golden thrones to follow
No shrines of solace to seek

I shall erect myself over transience
I shall ascend over flesh
Steadfastly tearing through aether
I shall rise to the beyond
I shall reveal heights not yet imagined
I shall rewrite Summa de homine
I shall speak with tongues of angels
and I shall burn with pure light

I will burn allright...

On to rupture; bonds rearranged
Scorch the archaic remnants
and rip through primordial thoughts
On to diremption: self and kin
All glory and strenght of culture
now null and void

No golden thrones to follow
No shrines of solace to be found
And only the locusts shall sing
And only the locusts to sing
at the end of the day